#smut and angst

[alltheirdamn]

A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 8

Summary: The truth fucking hurts. Warnings: heavy mentions of past sexual assault, unprotected piv sex, mando talks you through it, soft!mando, a smattering of angst Word Count: 6k A/N: This is a heavier chapter, so pls be advised with the warnings. Also, if you care, Gibson Girl by Ethel Cain is angel girls song ://

After hours of restless sleep, you found yourself in front of the carbonite chamber, cursing at the freezer valve as it hung loose on the pipe. Putting in a new valve shouldn’t be this hard, but it proved to be the opposite. No matter how many times you had twisted it with the wrench, it still wouldn’t budge, the pipe stripping away with each twist. Fuck, you were beyond agitated. Usually little tasks like this wouldn’t get you so worked up, but having no solution was starting to seriously ruin your mood.

And after last night, Mando had decided to hole away in the cockpit to work on the nav panel again.

He hadn’t brought up the incident in the cockpit; instead, he left it behind and focused on the present. You were grateful for it. Spending the long hours of the night wrapped up in his scent and warmth was enough of an escape from those memories that continued to poison your mind. He was patient enough to wait for you to talk to him, but you weren’t sure what to say. 

I was a slave.

I was raped.

My body doesn’t feel like mine anymore.

How could you form and speak those words out loud without completely crumbling? Acknowledging the past meant it was real, and you spent years hoping it was all just a nightmare you’d wake up from. The more distractions you had, the easier it was to try and forget. Kesi had ruined every good part of yourself, and for Mando to say you were an angel was beyond comprehension. If only he knew of the things you had endured. You were a broken mess with sharp edges. Anger was the only emotion keeping you together; it fueled the pain inside of you, feeding into it like a stray animal scouring for food. That pain hungered for rage, hungered for a taste of defiance. 

Anger was better than vulnerability.

But it was unfair to Mando for what you were doing. He had given you parts of himself that he’d held so close, yet you couldn’t even do the same. You were a hypocrite and so undeserving. The thought of running had floated through your mind during the night, even as he held you to his body. Leaving him behind would kill you, but would it be for the best? He’d be safer without you around, and you’d be void of all chances of attachment. Growing close meant caring about something—about someone—and you couldn’t fathom the thought of losing that again. 

With your thoughts running rampant and your patience wearing thin, you threw the tools to the ground and sulked up the ladder to find Mando. He didn’t acknowledge you as you threw yourself into the chair beside him, nor did he acknowledge the scowl etched onto your face. Your hands were covered with grease, and you reeked of smoke. You were beyond frustrated. 

“How am I supposed to fix the valve if I can’t strip the old you from the pipe?” You grumbled, folding your arms over your chest.

Mando gave a small grunt in response, a pair of pliers in his hands as he worked through the wiring. 

“Well?” You grumbled.

“Have you considered breaking the old valve to get it off?” Mando offered.

“And risk puncturing the pipe? Sure, if you want the entire Crest to go up in flames.”

“It won’t go up in flames,” he said. “Try snapping the metal with a compressor. It should only break the valve, not the pipe.”

“I thought about that already, Mando. It won’t work. Plus, your compressor isn’t big enough to grip onto the metal.”

Mando set the pliers down, turning his chair to face you completely. His helmet ran over your body, most likely making a mental note of the frustration painting over every inch of your body. You were supposed to be good at fixing things, but right now, you felt useless.

“We can go back into the village and get a new one,” he suggested. “Something bigger if it means you can get it fixed. How long till the function stops working on the chamber?”

You exhaled, rubbing the skin between your brows to relieve the oncoming headache. “A few days, maybe.”

“That shop should have something to help. We can go.”

You shook your head, nodding towards the nav panel. It still needed so much work till it was functioning again; you couldn’t pull Mando away.

“I’ll go. It’s safe here, and I know where the shop is.”

Mando hesitated with a response, no doubt weighing the risks of you going alone. You knew where to go, and you knew to remain hidden in plain sight; you had done that for months before getting caught. 

“Take your hood, and wear the comlink,” he instructed. “If you’re not back in thirty minutes, I’ll find you.”

I’ll find you.

It almost left his lips like a threat, an invitation for consequence if you didn’t obey. Your core warmed at the sound of it the more you tossed the words over in your head. Now was no time to be greedy for his cock, or another round of hate sex like yesterday. Even though you really, really, fucking loved it. Pushing his buttons was becoming one of your best skills, and the more you did it, the more you got out of him. He was less broody and quiet when you angered him, and it felt nice knowing he was real under all that beskar and gruffness. 

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you said, giving him a playful smile.

“Behave,” he warned, leaning towards you. 

You gave him a long eye roll, pushing off the chair and darting down the ladder before he could catch you. 

The village was quiet earlier in the morning, the sunlight still peeking through the endless expanse of trees beyond the huts and shops. There weren’t any kids running about either, and you wondered if they were all tucked away, still sleeping. Drawing up your hood, you ventured further into the little market square, heading toward the shop you had gone into yesterday. Though it was early, the door was open, and you spotted the man and woman talking behind the counter. In your presence, they both turned with welcoming smiles.

“You’re back!” The woman exclaimed, rounding the counter to greet you. “Was the valve we chose not correct?”

“I haven’t managed to test it yet. The old one is crusted onto the pipe pretty hard, and I’m looking for a compressor to strip it off,” you explained.

The man joined his wife, nodding along as you explained the issue. He ushered you to the wall of tools towards the eastern wall of the shop, pointing at a row of compressors.

“We have a few different options, depending on the valve size. I assume the one you purchased yesterday is the same as the old one?”

“Yes,” you smiled.

He grabbed one of the compressors off the wall and handed it to you to inspect. It was about an inch larger than Mando's, which would work perfectly. 

“I’ll take it,” you decided, following him to the counter.

You gave him a few credits in exchange for the compressor, and all the way, he continued talking.

“Did you need help stripping the old valve? I’m more than happy to help!”

“No, I’m okay. I used to work in a junkyard, so I’m pretty handy,” you chuckled. 

He gave you a wide-eyed look, clearly impressed that you knew your way around mechanics. It was refreshing to feel seen by someone and know your knowledge was reciprocated.

“A young girl like you with that skill is impressive,” he noted.

“I can thank my parents for that,” you shrugged.

“I’m sure they are very proud of you.”

And there it was… the dagger right to your chest. You hoped whenever they were, you were making them proud. You failed them in life, but maybe in death, they could see you were trying. You were trying so fucking hard.

You couldn’t form words to express your thanks to him, so you pocketed the compressor and left without another glance back. 

The village had started to slowly wake up as you wandered out of the shop, a few families roaming through the market for breakfast and other essentials. You pulled the hood tighter over your eyes, hoping to escape back to the Crest without any attention. You didn’t need any eyes on you when you were working so hard to stay hidden. Even if Mando claimed this planet was safe, that fear of being caught continued to nag you. 

You were nearly back to the Crest when a young girl bummed into you, a basket full of fruits on her arm.

“I’m so sorry!” She cried, curling her tiny fist around the handle. 

“It’s okay,” you assured her, steering past her body.

“Winta!” you heard a voice call out. “You need to be more careful!”

The mother came into view, running towards the girl—Winta—with an apologetic expression. But you recognized that face, and it chilled your blood. Omera. The woman you had seen talking to Mando yesterday, the woman responsible for all the broken pieces inside of him that he laid out before you. Maker, you hoped your stare was enough to slice through her heart. The scowl on your face was enough to stop her in her tracks, her expression growing confused as you continued to stare.

“I’m sorry about my daughter,” she began, hugging Winta close to her front. “She’s always in her own little world.”

You gave her a stiff nod, not trusting your words as they formed venom on your tongue. 

“I haven’t seen you before,” she went on. “Are you traveling through?”

“Something like that,” you bit out. 

“If you come back later in the day, we have a full market,” she offered. “It’s—.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

Her welcoming smile slid into a frown, and you noted how simple her features were. She wasn’t memorable, looks-wise, but her kindness was lethal, and you could understand how easily Mando fell into her trap. 

“I’m just being hospitable,” she sighed. “We love newcomers here.”

“Look, Omera,” her name off your tongue sent her eyes wide. “I really don’t give a fuck about your hospitality, so please, keep to yourself and leave me alone.”

She bent down to Winta, smoothing over her hair and giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Why don’t you find your friends?” She whispered to her.

Once Winta was far enough away, Omera looked at you with narrow eyes. You shifted your weight to match hers, your hand flexing around the compressor.

“You’re here with Mando.”

“I am,” you frowned. “Is that an issue with you?”

“I have no ill wishes about Mando. I hope you treat him kinder than you’ve treated me.”

Fuck. Her. 

You stepped forward, your lips curled up, ready to shoot venomous words in her face. How dare she say that? She doesn’t know Mando anymore; she doesn’t get the privilege of knowing him. Fuck her for weaponizing the past. 

“Omera,” came a deep, modulated voice.

You whipped your head around to see Mando walking over, his steps quiet and deadly. He did say he’d find you, and look what you fucking got yourself into. 

“Have I done something wrong?” She batted her eyelashes at Mando, blissfully dismissive of you beside him. 

“C’mon,” he said your name. “Let’s go.”

“Mando,” Omera pleaded. 

He held up a firm hand, taking your arm with the other to pull you away. But Omera stood strong against you both, waiting to give a litany of bullshit, no doubt. 

“I’m only trying to be kind,” she sighed. “To both of you.”

“We don’t need your kindness,” you snapped. 

Mando tugged on your arm harder, trying to steer you away. You were enraged for Mando, enraged that a woman this simple could have such an effect on him—and worse, on you. Omera held her hands in protest, surrendering to you and your anger. 

“We’re leaving,” Mando said firmly to you and Omera. 

“I wish you would stay. I have so much to explain,” Omera’s lower lip trembled. 

“There’s nothing to explain,” you interjected. “You had your chance once upon a time, and now that time is up. Enjoy your little life with your daughter, and forget us.”

Mando said your name in a clipped tone, and though you knew you had probably overstepped, your anger was slowly growing out of control. You needed to leave before you truly dug yourself a hole. This wasn’t your battle, but it wasn’t Mando’s either. She wasn’t worth a fight. 

“I’m ready to go,” you grumbled, escaping Mando’s hold and striding back toward the Crest. 

You didn’t have to look back to know Mando was following; you felt his presence tracking yours. You were constantly caught in his trap. Always the hunted, never the hunter. You didn’t understand why the entire ordeal with Omera had you so pissed off; maybe it was the fact she was the sole reason Mando wouldn’t get attached to another person. Maybe you were just angry because she had the life you wished you had. A home. A family. Things you lost and would never have again. 

Once you stepped back into the hull, you went straight for the carbonite chamber, hoping to busy yourself with fixing it rather than facing the problem. The thing was, Mando wouldn’t let you get away that easy. If you were learning anything with him, it was that you both shared the same fucking stubbornness. 

You twisted on the new compressor to the valve, twisting it to the left until you finally felt the metal snap under the pressure. Letting the metal fall to the ground, you worked on removing the remaining rubber binding to expose the pipe. As your fingers worked at the rubber, you felt the weight of Mando press against your back. You went ridged, choosing to ignore him. His hand brushed the hair from your neck, and his helmet dipped to your ear. 

“Don’t ignore me,” he whispered. “Not now.”

Saying nothing, you continued to clean the pipe for the new valve, shivering as his touch trailed over your shoulder and down your bicep. He made it so hard to stay upset, especially when you craved his touch like a starved woman. 

“I hate her,” you muttered. “And she has everything I will never have.”

Mando grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around to pin you under his silent gaze. You felt like shrinking away, curling into a ball, and rotting away in the darkest corner of the galaxy. The urge to come clean was on the tip of your tongue, nearly impossible to swallow. His helmet tilted to the side, and your grasp on self-reservation was thinning out the longer he stared. If he could be honest with you, you could do the same in return. 

The thought of it made your skin crawl. You had never spoken aloud about what you had endured under Kesi and weren’t sure when you’d truly be ready. But maybe you could start slow…

“She has a home,” you whispered. “A family.”

“You’ll have that one day, angel,” Mando reassured. “I’m trying so hard to give that to you.”

You shook your head, your eyes falling to the floor. He didn’t understand that no matter how hard he tried to give you this freedom you yearned for, you still wouldn’t be able to be free of everything that hurt you. No matter how hard you worked for that future, how much danger you put yourself and Mando in for it, it would never amount to the life you could only see others living. 

“You don’t understand, Mando.”

His hand came up to cup your chin, guiding your eyes back to him. The current of the past was dragging you under, but you clung to him as you battled against the waves. This was it; this was coming clean. 

“Help me understand. Please, angel.”

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, hoping to stop its trembling as you tried to sort through the endless thoughts rushing to the front of your mind. Reaching out for his hands, you led him to the empty crates by the ladder, urging him to sit with you. Once you came clean, everything would change. He wouldn’t look at you the same, wouldn’t fuck you the same, wouldn’t speak to you the same. You’d destroy everything with the words you were about to say, solidifying that you were forever broken. There was no fixing these pieces inside of you. No ounce of freedom would strip away the past and the damage it had done to you. Mando couldn’t save you from it; Maker knows you’ve tried so hard to do it yourself.

“I know you’re going to try and treat me differently,” you sighed. “Please, don’t. I’m not fragile, or at least not as much as I used to be.”

Mando nodded, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward toward you. You inhaled a shaky breath, holding it until your lungs refused to squeeze any longer. 

“I can’t have a family,” you started. “Only a week after Kesi took me, he had me sterilized. He barely gave me any sort of sedative during it. I—I felt everything, Mando. All of it.”

He could hardly say your name as you paused to collect your thoughts. He reached to hold your hands, wrapping them between his, keeping you grounded. 

“He said it was… better for business,” you winced. 

Mando cursed under his breath, and you knew if you could see his face, you’d find his eyes filled with an impossible rage. You couldn’t blame him; that same rage fueled a fire inside of you, constantly thrashing its flames against your ribcage. 

“He took me to some outer rim planet after that. I don’t even remember where it was, honestly. He usually kept me in a dark room, tied up and waiting. I wasn’t in ‘the business’ the first few months, but he still used me. Sometimes, it was just him…other times, he brought his associates. I was heavily drugged in the beginning, and part of me is grateful for it. I remember a lot less now. 

“But once he decided it was time to have me start working, they wanted to keep me sharp and off of spice. I couldn’t be ‘good’ if I were incapacitated. I need you to understand I wasn’t his associate, Mando. I was his slave. I was a part of the payment during trades. He transported me all over the outer and inner rim, leaving me in shitty inns and random hotels. No one was kind to me.” You paused. “Not like you, Mando. Maker, no one has touched me the way you do.”

“Give me their names—all of them. And I’ll kill every single one. No one will ever fucking touch you again, angel. Only me,” Mando growled. 

“It doesn’t matter now.”

You batted away tears that fell on your cheeks, knowing they would flood to the surface and crumble your composure. You had done so well up until then. You managed to get it all out without faltering, but now Mando was being sweet, stirring up many conflicting feelings. He couldn’t get attached to you—you wouldn’t let him. You were tainted, and so broken beyond repair. He deserved someone perfect and pure and secure. He deserved someone who could give a family and a place to call home. You had nothing and no one. 

You were nothing.

The longer you stayed, the more you’d hurt him. All he needed to do was kill Kesi, and then you’d be gone. You’d be a comet passing through his sky and disappearing into the darkness. He needed to forget you after all was said and done. You needed to forget him, no matter how hard it was becoming. He was running through your veins, injecting you with all these promises of a future full of safety and comfortable silence. 

You needed to run. Run far and fast before he sank his teeth into your soul and sucked you dry. 

Attachment would destroy you both. 

“I swear I will keep you safe,” Mando drew you closer, pressing his helmet against your forehead. “You’re mine to protect.”

Words wouldn’t surface to your tongue, your protests and cries lodged in your throat. You wanted to scream and tell him he needed to let go. You wanted to beg him to keep you. You had no fucking clue what you wanted and what you needed. Because you needed to leave, and you wanted to stay. 

You pulled away from him, the cool touch of his helmet lingering on your skin as you stood and turned away. 

“I—I need to finish fixing the valve,” you muttered. “And you should work on the nav so we can get out of here.”

Mando tugged on your wrist, twisting you to look at him. How many more tears could you cry in one day? You’d already given him the worst parts of yourself, and your instinct said to shrink away. Deflect and hide. That’s what you were good at. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he said. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled.

“I’m going to make him suffer,” he vowed.

“I know.”

He loosened his grip on you, letting you walk away and back to your project on the valve. You blocked out the sounds around you, and soon enough, you were alone in the hull and drowning in your thoughts.

**

Murdering Kesi wasn’t enough now. Mando needed, no craved, to tear that man apart from the inside out. He wanted to cut every one of his fingers off, each one that ever touched her. Mando wanted to gouge his eyes out so he’d never get to see her again. He wanted to skin him and watch him bleed all over the fucking floor.

He deserved a place worse than hell.

Mando could hardly focus on the nav panel; the wires lost between his fingers as he grappled with her words. Maker, she was so much stronger than he could have ever imagined. No wonder why she had asked him to kill her back on Tatooine. Knowing she would have rather been dead than go back…it said enough. And she was right; she wasn’t fragile. She was a fucking survivor, and now he wanted to protect her from the entire galaxy. 

Clearing his mind, Mando worked for another several hours until the wiring was finally untwisted and functioning again. Even with it done, Mando kept to himself for a bit longer, staring out into the clearing before him, seeing the village's lights smolder over the coming dusk. Years ago, he would have loved watching the sunset and sunrise here, having a simple life, and having a family, but he had experienced so much in the time that had passed that he never considered it anymore. He loved the silent life he had built— the hunts, the isolation, the distance. But the past few weeks with her made him doubt he could return to that life. 

Everything had a deadline, though; soon enough, he’d have to return to the silence. He’d have to say goodbye.

After a while, Mando went down into the cargo hold, seeing her now curled into bed hidden under the blankets. He made his way to the carbonite chamber, inspecting her work. She was fucking good. Everything was attached and functioning back at its original capacity, and the flashing lights on the quarries were just another reminder of his deadlines. He promised Karga he’d be back by the end of the week with more bounties, but with the mission to Oba Diah soon, Mando wasn’t sure how quickly they’d return to Nevarro. 

Looking back at her, he noted the calm rise and fall of her shoulders under the weight of the blanket. He didn’t want to wake her, so Mando slipped inside the refresher, letting the door slide close with a soft hiss. Standing inside, he removed his helmet, turning it towards himself. His thumbs traced over the tinted visor, wondering what she saw in her mind every time she looked at him. He was granted the gift of seeing her face every day, seeing her expressions change with each wave of emotion. He had studied her and began to learn her familiar movements: the outline of a vein on her neck when she was angered, the shake in her fingers when she was scared.

He wondered to himself, in the solitary of the refresher, if she had done the same. Had she analyzed the movements he made when she was in his company, the way he kept his hand near his blaster in case anyone looked at her in the wrong way? Did she notice how he tilted his head each time she argued, as if he were trying to understand the thoughts inside her mind? 

Looking at himself, Mando traced the outline of his face in the clouded mirror: the scruff of his beard–bare patches lining his jaw— the tired lines scattering his skin, the hollowness of his eyes. Ever since he was a foundling, a lingering sense of loneliness burrowed itself with him, a loneliness he thought would be filled by his allegiance to the Creed. He had found sanctity in his Clan, the loyalty within himself filling the hole that was left after his parents had been killed. Yet, it was a temporary solution that would not be filled by numerous bounties or forged beskar covering his skin. 

She shared that same loss as him, the same grief of losing a family. Yet, she didn’t wear armor to protect herself or swear allegiance to a Creed to survive. She was strong, stronger than he was. She had shown him the rawest parts of herself, telling him the pain of her past and trusting him with her secrets and body. Even if listening to her talk about it killed him, he knew he had been granted a chance to prove himself further. His only job was to kill Kesi, nothing more. After Omera, Mando swore to be loyal to nothing but his Creed, to stand firm in his beliefs, and never let himself grow close to another. But the attachment he felt for her had grown too strong, the loneliness inside of himself shrinking with each passing day he spent beside her. Everything he stood for and sacrificed was threatened by the chance to be loved again. 

Mando left the refresher, covering his face again, the burden of emotions weighing heavy on his shoulders. With her still tucked away, he opened the ramp and decided to relieve the pressure in his chest with fresh air. He didn’t go far, just a few feet from the Crest. The moon was traveling up to its peak in the sky, the light of it reflecting off the beskar that clung to Mando’s body. He felt so heavy, so trapped under the armor he wore. He wanted to shed every piece of it off for the first time and be a man, not a Mandalorian.

“Mando?” Her voice was soft against the evening breeze.

He turned to see her standing at the edge of the ramp; the sleepshirt was askew on her body, leaving her collarbones glistening in the moonlight. Maker, she was so beautiful. 

“Please, stay on the ship.” Saying her name was like a prayer falling on deaf ears, and knowing her stubbornness, she wasn’t leaving without an answer—one he very well didn’t know how to give without falling apart.

“You’re doing it,” she said. “Treating me differently.”

With a heavy sigh, Mando stared up at the sky, counting each planet in view before responding. 

“I’m not,” he said.

He cursed himself for not saying more. But ‘more’ would end everything: his Creed, his promise, his solitude. Mando wasn’t sure he had the strength to say more than those two words; she was unraveling him from the inside out. 

She shifted her weight, eyes aglow in the moonlight as it crested above the sky. There it was again, that look of concern. Mando knew the less he said, the more it would hurt her. She had given him so much of herself after battling it for weeks. He wouldn’t treat her differently, but he made no excuse for how her words had torn him apart.

She closed the gap between them, her hands fisting the cowl around his neck. Mando’s arms wrapped around her waist, drawing her in despite the voice inside his head screaming at him to stop. He wanted her close to him; he wanted it only to be his hands touching her. She stared at him, and he swore she could see his eyes behind the visor.

“I’m not fragile.”

“I know you aren’t. I’m just angry.”

“You don’t have to be angry for me. I have enough anger to last a lifetime.”

“Angel, all I feel is anger.”

“Feel something else,” she begged. 

“I’m afraid,” Mando choked. 

Her brows furrowed together, creating that familiar crease. He lifted a hand to her face, soothing the lines with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered shut at his touch, the moment between them stretching on forever. 

“What’re you afraid of?” She asked, opening her eyes again. 

“Everything.”

She curled her fists tighter around the fabric that hugged his neck, anchoring him to the present. His mind was rushing through all the possibilities of what could happen if she stayed or didn’t leave after all was said and done. A loud, modulated exhale left Mando as he cupped her face. She leaned into it, and he reveled in knowing his touch was enough to comfort her. 

“I’m afraid, too,” she said. 

He had no idea what she was afraid of, nor did he have the right words to console her. They stayed like that for a while, holding each other as the stars moved above them. He couldn’t help but feel like everything was slowly ending, that he would lose her. She was sand beneath his feet, rolling away with the wind, and no matter how hard he tried to keep her, she would vanish. He always knew she would, but he was so fucking afraid to face that day. 

“Take me back to the ship,” she whispered. “Help me forget it all.”

**

By the time Mando had you spread out on the bed, the ramp had barely closed behind you. You were breathless and arching into his touch as he slid his hands down your body. He had shed his gloves at some point, and you shivered as his fingers traced the curves of your body. It wasn’t fast this time, not like your usual hookups together. He was memorizing your skin, outlining the cuts scattered over your torso and thighs. He didn’t ask what they were or where you got them, but the truth seemed to keep spilling.

“I wasn’t allowed to say ‘no,’” you exhaled, your breath shaky.  

Mando’s hands stilled on your body, his helmet slowly lifting to look at you. 

“You can tell me no, angel. Any time you want, and I promise I’ll stop.”

“I don’t know how to say no to you, Mando.”

He groaned, his fingers working at the supple flesh of your upper thighs. You let out a whine as his fingers trailed between them, slipping under your shorts and dipping into your wet folds. He rubbed circles against your throbbing clit, humming softly when you cried out as the pleasure spiked in your stomach. 

“Like that, angel?” His voice was low and husky. 

You couldn’t do anything more than nod, grinding against his fingers to release the pressure building inside you. Mando slid a finger inside you, working it in and out at a dangerously slow speed. Adding another finger, your breath hitched as he curled them, your cunt pulsating with each movement. You were on the edge of release, fingers tearing into the blanket under your body as he talked you through it. Your orgasm hit you hard, your ears ringing from either your screams or the growl that left his chest. 

“Good girl. So good for me.”

He pulled his fingers from you, lifting the glistening digits to your lips as your tongue darted out to taste. You hadn’t thought it before, but maker, you wished it was his tongue licking off your release. You wanted to know what unadulterated desire looked on his face as you came. Mando unzipped his suit and lined up against you, breaking you away from those fleeting dreams. Even dripping wet, the stretch of his cock came with a sting as he thrust into you. His pace was slow and sensual, one hand at the curve of your waist, the other carding through your hair. Rolling your hips, he pushed deeper, a trail of curses leaving your lips. 

“Look at you,” he crooned, moving his hips against yours. “Look at how fucking good you take me.”

His words dripped onto you like honey, covering your body in sticky sweetness until all you could feel, hear, and see was him. You cupped one of your breasts, rolling your nipple between your fingers to flood your body with pleasure. You were ignited from head to toe, your nerves dancing in ecstasy as he thrust in and out of you in a smooth rhythm. 

“Mando,” you whimpered.

“Take what you need, angel. Use me until you cum.”

You rolled your hips with each of his strokes, your body succumbing to pure bliss. Mando kept his pace, rocking into you with fervor, crying out as he trailed his hand to the apex of your cunt, applying pressure on your throbbing clit. You were teetering on the edge, your eyes rolling back as that pressure crescendoed until you couldn’t hold it any longer. With a quick snap of his hips, your orgasm washed over you, the quickening sound of your pulse flooding your ears. Your body went limp against the bed; muscles wound too tightly from cumming twice in a row. You didn’t know if your body could handle anymore, but Mando was unrelenting and picked up the pace. 

“One more for me,” he begged. “Give me one more.”

“I—can’t!” you cried out. 

Your inner thighs were slick from your release, and you arched against his touch as he caged you between his arms. At this angle, his cock was hitting your core at a ruthless speed, his hips snapping against yours with each thrust. You were entirely at his mercy, letting him chase his own release as you lay in pure bliss. Your body was strung out and buzzing with the orgasms he already pulled for you, and yet, you were desperate to give him more. 

You couldn’t stop giving him more. 

“Fuck, angel,” he grunted. “I—”

His words electrified you, pleasure rolling down your spine as you tightened around his cock. A choked gasp lodged itself in his throat, his body tensing up as he filled you with his cum. Slumping against you, Mando nestled himself into the crook of your neck, the cool touch of his beskar forcing a ripple of goosebumps over your skin. Your hands reached up to squeeze his biceps, kneading at the muscles under his suit. He let out a loud moan, his weight pressing further into you. You’d let him stay with you tonight, soaking in the moments of his body pressed against yours. He had made you forget it all, even for a brief moment, but as the fog in your mind cleared, you realized how content that made you feel. And that terrified you. You had to make a plan to run and hope he wouldn’t catch you. 

You had to leave.

#mando x reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando #pedro pascal characters #mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfiction #smut and angst

[charmandabear]

Banner art provided by: Astarion's Simple Plan and House of Vinewood. (Go check out their shit they're both incredible.)

Terms of Service

Summary:

Althaea broke some propriety laws while working at Sharess' Caress, and Magistrate Ancunín isn't going to be easily convinced to be lenient.

Pairing: Astarion/F!OC Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5.5k Tags/Warnings: sex work, direct references to Astarion's trauma, magistrate!Astarion, soft!Astarion, nervous!Astarion, hand jobs, p in v sex, awkward sex, blood/blood drinking, astarion learns what aftercare is

Read on AO3.

I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about sex work, decriminalization, and when rules and regulations are made without sex workers it only serves to infantilize them (or much, much worse.) We need to be more willing to have these conversations and, for fuck's sake, LISTEN TO SEX WORKERS.

Additionally, a whole bunch of headcanon posts influenced this:

- Astarion learning how to not "perform" during sex - Astarion getting real quiet during sex - Astarion speaking Elvish during sex

#fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion angst #smut and angst #bg3 smut #baldurs gate 3 smut #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x female oc #astarion/oc

[eloquentreverie]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bucky barnes x female reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Bucky struggles to cope with the pain after Steve dies.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬: friends to lovers, sad/grief sex, angst with a happy ending, p in v sex, unprotected sex, major character death,

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫❜𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Anon requested smut with heavy feelings and my inspo immediately chose this. I hope you like it!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐈𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

It’s not the same.

That’s what he keeps telling himself over and over in his head. It feels like a part of him is missing. And deep down he knows a piece of him died the day Steve left. It also doesn’t help that everywhere he looks reminds him of Steve. Around his apartment, on the TV, and outside when he decides to walk, down the sidewalk.

He buries himself in his work and, for the most part, it works. His mind is preoccupied with mission reports, training, and taking care of his weapons, but then, when he’s on a mission, that’s when it kicks in. A painful reminder that his best friend is no longer by his side.

But then again, he still has her. Over the past few months, he finds himself coming to her for comfort. Bucky pours out his heart to her, and he knows she won’t judge him because everyone is grieving in their own way. Everyone on the Avengers can feel the absence.

So, when he asks her if she wants to join him at one of his favorite bars, she’s not surprised. And a part of him knows it’s silly. Bucky can’t get drunk because of the super serum but at least he can relish in the feeling of the alcohol, burning his throat, the soft music reverberating off the walls.

Tonight, though, something shifts. The tears that he usually tries to hold back, his throat constricting and his heart feeling heavy once more—it becomes too much to bear.

He looks over at Y/N, gulping hard before he breaks the silence. “I miss him...” he croaks out, looking up at her through dark eyelashes. “I still see him. Everywhere.”

There it is. Out in the open for all the world to hear. Except, of course, the world doesn’t seem to pay attention when he talks. Except when his skin begins to feel sticky from the sweat, he can hear the vibrations through the wood beneath him, the warmth radiating off his body when her fingertips make contact with his cheekbone, slowly turning him around. His mouth goes dry, eyes trailing from her lips and moving slowly up her face until he’s staring at her eyes once more.

She reaches up with her other hand, thumb gently swiping under his right eye, collecting the tears that have since fallen down his face.

Her voice is soft and reassuring and he’s almost sure it’s the best sound in the world. “I miss him too,” she pauses, letting go of his face. “C’mere...” she trails off, her hand moving from his knee down to the back of his head.

Without hesitating, his arms slipped underneath hers, face resting against her chest, letting the warmth take hold of his entire body. She gently rocks him back and forth while humming a soft lullaby, making him feel safe and secure.

It’s been a while since he’s let his guard down like this and he finds himself snuggling closer to her warmth. Bucky doesn’t care that they’re in public, that people are staring, or that Steve’s face will show up on the television screen nearby—because that all goes out the window when his only thought is to seek her comfort.

He may have lost a part of him with the death of his best friend, but she’s doing an excellent job of keeping that part alive and breathing. It feels natural and comforting to have her touch. Her lips press lightly against the top of his head. And not once does she shy away at his body resting against hers. If anything, she doesn’t let up, just tightening the hold around his shoulder, bringing him into her even more.

But with it being their first time getting this intimate, neither one of them fully knows the effect it’ll have on them. “I miss him too,” she whispers. The way her thumb softly rubs the back of his head in slow circular motions, nails running lightly across his scalp.

Bucky feels an overwhelming need for affection, like an addict chasing that next high. So much so that he presses further into her touch, needing her to soothe his inner demons.

There’s a weird feeling, but it isn’t necessarily an unwelcoming one either, the way their heartbeats are syncing. That’s never happened before. It almost seems like it’s intentional. And for some reason, the thought of their bodies connecting that deeply, as simple as a synchronous rhythm, scares and thrills him at the same time. There’s something there.

She always says the right words that put him at ease. Makes his heart feel less constricted, and the pain starts to dwindle. Her hand glides across the nape of his neck. Bucky tries to relax as much as his body would allow him to, but then his eyes flash to her lips and it hits him... hard.

How in the last month did he not realize how beautiful they look? All full and plump, inviting him, welcoming him, drawing him in. Why didn’t he ever think of kissing her or hell—why he didn’t act on impulse is beyond him.

Slowly, but deliberately, her head tilts slightly, and he finds his head moving forward as well, stopping only a breath away, nose brushing ever so slightly. That’s where everything comes to a screeching halt.

At one point, his hand slides up to her shoulder, gently squeezing as his forehead drops against hers. Her breathing begins to hitch and now that he’s been in her bubble, there’s no doubt their faces will probably burn together. Her eyes slide open. “Are you sure?” Her voice is raspy.

When he finally catches his breath, his thumb and forefinger find the purchase of her chin, gently coaxing her lips towards his. This is probably the dumbest thing he’ll ever do. But somehow he has a gut feeling, he knows it’ll feel different.

She can only exhale sharply before Bucky’s mouth meets hers. At first, he can only kiss her bottom lip. She sighs with contentment. For someone who’s rarely ever done this in his lifetime, his self-confidence grows with each kiss.

Her hands shoot up his chest to snake around his neck, and she’s clutching the fabric there like a vise and he knows his clothing will be wrinkled afterward. Her chest brushes against his. And holy fuck, she’s not wearing a bra, and the way her hardened nipple makes contact with him sends a shockwave down his spine.

She deepens the kiss, her tongue stroking along the crease of his mouth, gently nibbling the supple flesh that’s soft, warm, and perfect.

She tastes better than he imagined. Fruity and crisp from her drink. He traces the curve of her spine, savoring her body, when a moan leaves the back of his throat.

Just barely though. She parts her lips, her teeth grazing his lower lip. Bucky has been trying so damn hard to ignore the aching pain between his legs. A carnal need takes hold of his entire body and when he’s about ready to push her into her seat, he takes his chance to sneak a little deeper. Just a taste. And fuck him, because she gives him everything in return. She’s bold, and strong, and like fire.

Before things can go too far, he pulls away. Partially gasping for air and completely head over heels in love with the woman sitting across from him. Bucky watches with hooded eyes as her swollen lips turn into an ethereal smile that not even the brightest star can shine upon. “We should probably go...” he suggests with a small smile. The first smile she’d seen since Steve’s funeral. She nods.

Once he slips his gloves back on, she turns towards him, her chest pressing against his. “Thank you, by the way. For earlier, it meant a lot that you asked me here,” her voice is a faint whisper.

Bucky tilts her chin upwards to connect their lips once again in a gentle, intimate and private way. Only for him to have. Only for her to share. “You know I wouldn’t do this with anyone,” his hand shoots out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing her hand as they make their way out of the bar and onto the sidewalk.

A feeling settles deep inside his chest as a strong gust of wind causes her body to move forward, crashing into his. He can tell by her soft giggles, and the crinkle of her eyes that she’s cold, and he would do everything to protect her. “Sorry,” she mutters as another harsh blast causes her hair to sway dramatically.

Her eyes flicker momentarily before he envelops her frame in his own, his chest pressing firmly against hers, sending her further into the hard surface of his chest, enveloping her entirely. “Oh...” she trails off. She blinks repeatedly, struggling to find the right words before he drops a light, affectionate kiss on her cheek. Her soft hair blows delicately in the night air.

Her fingers thread through his, pulling him gently, never once letting go of his hand. “What?” She frowns as the two stop right in front of Avenger’s Tower. “I’m just really lucky to have someone as kind, considerate, and funny as you in my life. My heart’s been shattered.” A faint blush crosses his cheeks, ears turning a faint shade of pink.

He smirks, watching her tuck the piece of her behind her ear as a sudden heat travels up her neck, warming her features. She reaches out to smooth the stray hairs, tenderly gliding her fingers along the stubble before reaching the small spot on his jaw.

“Can I touch your arm?” His laugh is loud, yet bright and refreshing, like a cold beer on a hot summer day. She lifts her gaze to his face, her smile growing bigger and brighter.

“Are we already at the part where we explore each other?” He muses playfully. She shakes her head in response before leaning into his touch. He wraps an arm around the small of her back, gently leading her over towards the building, up the short set of steps, and into the building.

She is grateful that the elevator ride is silent, even though she can feel the unwavering tension coursing between the two. She briefly looks at the mirrored surface before sneaking a glance at him and this time, she is pleasantly surprised at the sincerity reflected back. She tilts her head, meeting his gaze.

Her stomach suddenly filled with a new sensation, leaving her body to move against his. They sway slowly from side to side before leaning her forehead on the solid wall of muscle that is his chest. She smiles when a burst of laughter fills the small space, followed quickly by his sharp gasp as the doors open and the lights illuminate the floor.

“Who the hell designed this place, anyway?” He exclaims, stepping past the doors.

“I’ll have you know, Tony Stark designed this,” she declares, rolling her eyes in faux annoyance. She stifles the grin, then clears her throat, focusing her eyes elsewhere instead of meeting his challenging stare, lest her whole facade collapse.

His gaze doesn’t linger long, though; instead, his stare shifts down her frame. He sighs. “Well, I guess it could be worse.” Her smirk widens even more at the slight hint of uncertainty beneath his teasing tone. She forces out a snort when all she wants is to giggle.

Bucky shakes his head before taking her hand in his, leading them to his bedroom. There isn’t any sense of awkwardness, not with her. She is, for lack of better words, natural. Simple. Easy-going. Not pretentious like all the other women he used to bed.

Her movements are deliberate, slow, and calculated. He has to remind himself that what he felt back then is nothing compared to how she makes him feel right now, right here, right now. They both sit on the edge of the bed, knees touching.

Their chests are heaving, his mind fogged with desire. Her hand glides through the rough scruff along his face, causing him to lean in the comfort of her embrace, kissing her back. She trails soft kisses up along his jaw and neck, savoring the way her lips fit perfectly along his heated skin, causing shivers to run down his spine.

There are so many ways he wants her to touch him, but the most urgent need is for her to touch him where he’s needed the most. He grinds against her once more, feeling the heat radiate off her body, his breath hot and labored as his hips rock harder, and his mind becomes overwhelmed with her.

It’s strange; the way her eyes still meet his, burning with fiery intensity and he cannot look away, doesn’t want to, as her hands continue to roam free down his neck, and his skin erupts in goosebumps with the trail her fingertips are leaving in their wake.

“I need you, Y/N. I need you to take away the pain. Even if it’s just a few minutes.” He shudders and leans forward, capturing her lips in his, devouring every inch. Their bodies were alive, consumed in the sensations and neither was thinking clearly; their emotions had taken a firm grip on them, leaving them to give in to their desires.

His lips moved down her neck and shoulders, finding a sensitive spot that had her shivering under his attention; a small whimper escaped from her lips. His mouth soon found hers again, the passion between them growing stronger with each kiss, each touch.

The muscles in her abdomen clenched at his words and his touch, which seemed to intensify with every brush of his hand along her skin. “It’s alright, Buck. It’s okay.”

His hands move down her body, unzipping her jeans before pulling them down. He lays her back gently before shedding the rest of their clothes, skin against skin.

“You ready?” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. Her heart jumped and her pulse quickened, beating frantically in her chest, her blood flowing hot with excitement, lust, and need. The only reply she could muster came in the form of a shaky nod.

She wanted it. Wanted it so badly, that the slightest bit of friction against her slick folds made her arch her back slightly and bite her lip in anticipation.

She looked down to see him leaning above her, looking down at her with eyes clouded with desire. His shaft pressed against her entrance, and she moaned again, wanting and craving more. “God, Y/N. Please, please, let me hear you say it,” he growled lowly into her ear as his hands slid under her backside, lifting her slightly.

“Please, Buck, just take me,” she gasped out.

“I love the sound of those words from your pretty little lips,” he smirked. “Tell me again.”

“Bucky...”

He placed his hands on her thighs, spreading them apart before driving himself inside her, relishing in her whimpers of pleasure as he slid deeper. The warmth and tightness of her wrapped around his cock almost took him over the edge. “Fuck, that feels good, baby,” he groaned, slowly thrusting into her.

His movements were agonizingly slow as he began rocking back and forth, each time burying his length deeper within her warmth. The familiarity of their connection, the way their bodies were so close, and the way she responded to his touches sent bolts of electricity throughout his body. He felt her shudder, her eyes closing tightly, and she let out a long gasp of satisfaction.

After several minutes of steady pumping, Bucky shifted so he could lean over the top of her, and he brushed his thumb across her lips. “Open your eyes, Y/N,” he murmured softly in her ear. “I want to see the look on your face when I make love to you.” He heard her breathing become shallow, and she obeyed, her eyelids fluttering open.

“You’re beautiful, doll.”

She arched her back slightly, pushing herself down onto him. “Yes,” she breathed out, her voice quivering. “More,” she pleaded, gripping onto him tightly.

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he rasped.

Bucky rocked his hips faster, sending the bed rocking into the wall with each hard thrust, causing the wood to bang loudly, echoing through the room.

He watched as she writhed underneath him, biting her lower lip as his rhythm increased, sweat dripping off his chin, mixing with the fluids from their passionate sex. Her body trembled violently and her heart was hammering in her ribcage. Her eyes flew shut, and her hands rested on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

“Fuck!” she hissed between gritted teeth.

The muscles in her thighs tightened as the wave of euphoria spread throughout her whole body. He felt her walls contracting around him, and he smiled against her throat. He loved hearing her come undone by his hands... no, his touch... no, his words.

It drove him insane how easily he could get lost in her moans, and her whimpers. He loved her sounds. They sounded so fucking angelic. And oh god, how he loved the way her fingernails would rake down his back and leave angry red marks, bruising his flesh and bone, painting the canvas that is his skin.

For a moment, he forgets about the pain and grief that lingers in his chest. His mind only filled with thoughts of her, wanting and needing him and only him. Nothing else. Nobody else. “Sweet Jesus. Shit...” His breaths turned heavy, and ragged, and his hands gripped at her hips, pulling her body into his as the final tremors coursed through him.

The scent of sweat, sex, and her perfume swirled around the air creating a perfect blend of aphrodisiac aromas that invaded the chambers of his brain, imprinting themselves into his memory forever, along with the image of her lying beneath him, her body trembling as the aftershocks continued.

She could feel the energy surging between them, and she sighed contentedly, opening her eyes and gazing at him lovingly, a serene expression on her face.

They stared at each other silently for a long while before he finally leaned in to capture her lips, kissing her deeply, and when they parted, he moved away from her slightly. Her eyes locked onto his, searching them for something... anything, to grasp onto as the waves of euphoria swept over her, pulling her under, drowning her in its blissful embrace.

There was a subtle twinkle in his blue irises shining brightly, as though they contained specks of gold dust and flecks of light from the morning sky; an ethereal glow, dazzling, beautiful, and powerful enough to send shivers down her spine and make her insides flutter uncontrollably.

Bucky could sense the changes taking place within her, although he couldn’t exactly pinpoint the specific cause of such sudden reactions, nor could he figure out whether it stemmed from pure physical exhaustion or emotional overload.

Whatever the case, his breathing became steadier as her eyes met his once more and the corners of his lips lifted into an adorable grin that was unlike his typical stoic expressions.

Her face relaxed, and the tension left her muscles. Her hand reached up and cupped his cheek, running along the coarse stubble before landing softly against his face. She let out a heavy sigh, feeling somewhat relieved as her vision grew blurry, and tears fell freely from her closed lids.

The emotions threatened to overwhelm her, but she fought to regain some sort of composure, swallowing heavily as a deep pang resonated within her chest and reverberated throughout the room. Bucky rolled off of her, now lying beside her as he pulled her into his arms.

“Shhh,” he murmured soothingly into her ear as he ran his hand over her bare skin, trailing down towards the curve of her hips.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, although she knew it wasn’t entirely true.

“No. You’re not,” he retorted sternly, as if admonishing a small child.

Y/N glanced back up at him, wiping away some of the tears that fell. “Bucky,” her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“What do you need, baby?” He whispered, leaning into her ear. “Anything you want, you can tell me. I can make anything happen for you, I promise,” he swore earnestly, his eyes glittering with hope.

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe I’m just tired or overwhelmed or something,” she mumbled.

Bucky sat up slightly, adjusting his weight on the mattress. “Is it about Steve?”

At that moment, she felt a lump in her throat, knowing deep down that she owed it to him, at least to have an honest conversation regarding her feelings and to try her best to express herself without keeping her emotions hidden behind a mask of strength.

She nodded reluctantly, exhaling deeply as she squeezed his bicep. “Everything’s going to be fine, okay?”

A tear trickled down her cheek and landed on her leg, leaving a warm wetness against the cool skin of her thigh. “I’m scared, Buck. What am I supposed to do when everything changes? If I lose you and everyone else, then where will I turn?” She swallowed hard, wiping her eyes dry. “I’m sorry for sounding weak, but it hurts...”

Her bottom lip began to tremble, and she chewed anxiously on it as her body wracked itself with tiny hiccupping sobs. Bucky enveloped her in a hug, squeezing tightly, allowing the comforting silence to fill the void between them.

He understood that this type of intimate relationship didn’t necessarily require constant communication or dialogue; sometimes, simply sitting together quietly like this gave a sense of peace and security to both parties involved. And he needed that comfort right now. He wanted Y/N to realize how much he loved her. How special she was to him.

“I understand, sweetheart. It’s hard losing people.” He kissed her forehead gently. “It’s terrifying, knowing that nothing will ever replace the hole their departure creates. But you never have to worry about me. I’ll always be there for you.”

She sniffles, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“Just as Steve always was. No matter what.”

There are no words exchanged; instead, they remain entwined together. Neither one of them knows which movement to make first. Whether it’s initiating further physical intimacy or moving past the heaviness of the situation.

After a while, they decide that doing nothing is better than being awkward, so they stay in this position, enjoying each other’s company while silently praying that this will last.

Bucky presses a delicate kiss to her temple, murmuring a soft “goodnight” against her hair. 

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot. #angst #smut and angst

[gayerthanevertbh]

the other woman masterlist.

summary | You know it was beautifully wrong when your best friend’s mother kissed your parched mouth. What’s even worse is that she’s a married woman and you’re just her secret affair.

warnings | major age gap ; milf!natasha x young!reader ; heavy smut along the way ; cheating ; that’s it for now, will add more in the later future

author’s note | this series is inspired by starsvck! i literally love their new series that i got so much inspiration from, thanks to them tbh. if you want to be in the taglist, please comment <3

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven

part eight

part nine

epilogue

SPECIAL ONE-SHOTS & DRABBLES:

dirty kitchen - smut & a little angst.

reader’s messages with natasha & her little journal<3

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #older!nat #black widow #natasha angst #smut and angst #towseries #wlw blog #black widow x fem!reader

[light-yaers]

Lover: Chapter Six [Finale]

Chapter List | AO3 | Fic Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol and substance abuse, eventual sex/smut, mentions of death/cancer. 18+ [THIS CHAPTER IS EXPLICIT]

A/N: it is time. thanks for joining the ride. until next time x

Word Count: 19.5k

Chapter Six: conrad.

Sitting with Susannah calms you, even though it’s only for a little while. You still have lots to do back at the house, organising wedding things with Belly and the girls, and making sure Jere doesn’t get cold feet before tomorrow. 

 As if that would happen. 

 You get yourself off the floor, sending Susannah one last kiss, before heading back towards the main road. The walk back is short lived; in fact, you don’t even leave the graveyard, before you see the unmistakable red of Conrad’s Jeep parked on the road. 

He jumps out the car before you know what to do, so you just stand there, a few meters away from Susannah’s grave and where you were sat just moments before. Conrad enters the compound, catching your eye as soon as his feet hit the gravel. 

 He stops abruptly, staring at you from down the road. You do the same, bowing your head sadly at him. He’d found you immediately, without knowing your location. You couldn’t imagine Conrad driving around Cousins, head out the window, looking into store fronts and cafes and wondering the streets for you—yet here he was. 

 He’d found you. 

 You send a silent prayer to Susannah, before you start down the road to him. 

 “Are you okay?” he says first, when you approach him slowly. 

 “You didn’t need to come find me,” you let out, scuffing your shoes on the floor. “I wasn’t lost,” 

 “I know,” he says. “I knew you’d be here, though,” 

 You sigh gently. “How?” 

 “I come here to think, too,” he says softly. You can’t help but smile, even though his words still cut to your core from last night. But he’s here, standing before you, worried expression on his face despite trying to cover it up, and you find yourself... okay with it. 

 Maybe even glad. 

 “She’s a great listener,” you say, and Conrad’s the first to chuckle. He ducks his head to the ground, hands in pockets, hair covering his forehead and falling into his eyes. He flicks it out of the way, meeting your eye strongly. 

 “She sure is,” his smile is golden. You wish it wasn’t. 

 You want so desperately to stay mad at Conrad Fisher, but there’s something about his face and eyes and jaw and neck—maybe just him—that makes it impossible. He was so vile to you, said horrible things and damaged your heart, just so he could protect his in return. He’s kept you by his side for years, comforted you, listened to you, lead you on maybe, but you know deep down that you’ll never fully hate him. 

 You can’t find the strength within you to. 

 “Let’s go home,” he adds, softer this time. It’s because of times like these, when he’s only got eyes for you and his voice is so gentle that it’s a whisper, but it still has a rasp that makes you shiver, that make you want to forgive him so easily. 

 You indulge him just this once, just because you’re tired and you need to get back, for Belly. 

 “Okay,” you whisper, before the two of you walk side by side, back to the car. 

 The ride is silent for the most part, apart from Conrad’s erratic breathing. It’s not often that he loses his cool, rare that his composure is so shot that his heart is about to beat out of his chest, but right now you can tell he’s losing a handle on himself. 

 You turn to him secretively, not wanting a conversation out of this, but just wanting to know if he’s alright. The same way he’d cared about you. 

 When you see how bad it is, you stir. “Conrad,” you say gently. 

 “Yeah,” he replies immediately, way too fast and way too loud for him to be okay. You shuffle in your seat, shooting him worried brows. 

 “Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe,” you try to reassure him, but all it does is make his grip tighten on the steering wheel until his knuckles go white. You reach out and grab his forearm, squeezing it sturdily. “Pull over,” you urge, and he pulls into the hard shoulder without a second thought. 

 He cuts the engine, and you very quickly realise that he’s having a panic attack. You unbuckle your belt, opening your door and jumping out the car. You rush round to his side of the Jeep, pulling open the door and unclipping his seatbelt as fast as you can.

 “Breathe, Conrad,” you keep saying, knowing that it’s easier said than done. You don’t overcrowd him; just let the air from outside drift to where he’s sat, hyperventilating, doubled over against the steering wheel, sucking big breaths in through his mouth and shaking them out through his nose. 

 Slowly, he stretches himself out and plants his feet on the ground, getting out of the car. You watch as he paces the side of the road, hands on his hips, face still pale but gaining colour once more. 

 “Sorry,” he splutters, and you let out a scoff for lack of what else to respond. This idiot; apologising for having a fucking panic attack. 

 “Nothing to apologise for,” you let out. 

 “Yeah, there is,” he says, smiling through the pain in his chest. He starts laughing, but it’s not the laugh you know is true; he’s embarrassed; he’s overwhelmed. “There’s a lot I need to apologise for,” he says breathlessly. 

 “Conrad,” you breathe out, approaching him fast and grabbing his face. You cup his cheeks with your palms, staring as deep into his eyes as you possibly can. “Not now,” you reassure him. “You don’t need to do anything right now apart from breathe,” 

 Conrad lets out a sad splutter. You’d never seen him like this before, not even at Susannah’s funeral. This was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen the boy, swallowing down the want to wail and blinking away the want to cry as if he’d die as soon as he revealed to anyone that he actually felt things. 

 He grabs your wrists then, curling his fingers around them and swiping his thumbs across your knuckles. He scoffs again, and you pull him closer to you, softening your grip and expression. “In and out, Conrad,” you say gently. “Like the waves hitting the shore,” 

 His head starts shaking, opposed to the soft-spoken words you’re offering him. 

 When he slows, he moves his hands to your shoulders, fiddling with a few strands of your hair. You don’t move away, keeping yourself in place and offering your hands on and emotional support. 

 Conrad smiles shakily. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers. Your face drops, ready to immediately argue back against his words, but you never get the chance to—

 His lips smash against yours before you even realise what’s happening. Conrad inhales deeply, moving his hands to the sides of your face while your limbs short-circuit. Your hands fall from his face and rest against his shoulders, unknowing of where to place themselves while your brain tries to catch up with what’s happening. 

 All you know is that his lips are soft and taste like salt. 

 He’s being delicate, despite the abrupt way he initiated the kiss. His fingers skim your jaw lovingly, lingering over your soft skin as he gets to grips with this—this—he’s kissing you and you’re not pulling away. 

 You feel the gentle weight of his forehead, clunking against yours, and then he’s gone. You can breathe again, sucking in air through your parted lips and letting out shaken and shocked breaths in return. Conrad’s thumbs still swipe your skin, making every nerve ending stand on edge, erupt in fire. 

 You keep your eyes clamped close, too afraid to rationalise the moment that just happened. Conrad does too, not wanting this to end, despite the ease in his lungs and the way his heartbeat has stabilised.

 Suddenly, you remember his words, before everything went black— I don’t deserve you. 

 You pull away first, opening your eyes and taking him in. It’s like you haven’t seen him in years, have never seen him this close with glassy eyes and parted lips that were on yours just moments before—well, you haven’t. 

  Only thought about it. Only pictured it. 

 Now that he was in front of you like this, your heart swells to twice the size, infiltrating your ribs and forcing your lungs to crumple up like paper planes. The breath hitches in your throat; your lips taste like him. 

 “Yes, you do,” you whisper, finally. “You deserve someone that loves you,” 

 Conrad smiles hesitantly, eyes on the brink of overflowing. He leans forward again, resting his forehead upon yours and swiping his hands down to your waist. He lets out a small chuckle, one of confusion and shock and everything in between. 

 “You deserve that and more,” he sniffs. You smile with him, unable to stop the giggles from erupting from your lips. Gently, you grip the back of his neck, curling your fingers through the stray strands at the base of his head. 

 “Let’s go home, Conrad,” 

 The afternoon is blissful, as you and the girls finish up all the decorations and the furniture arrives. All of you set out the chairs on the beach, ready for the morning, running through the sand excitedly and exclaiming it’s happening! It’s really happening!

 Belly’s secretly looking at you whenever she can, trying to analyse your expressions, your mood, desperately trying to pin down what happened when Conrad came to pick you up. She smiles all the same, clearly happy that you’ve made up with him, but there’s this nagging feeling behind her eyes—like an ice pick trying to bash its way to the centre of an ice sculpture.

 You’re just waiting for her to corner you, waiting for her and Shayla and Taylor to sit you down and ask a thousand questions. You don’t even know what you’d reply.

 Sure, you and Conrad kissed. For the first time; not counting the time he’d tried after Susannah’s funeral, five years ago. But there was an uncertainty surrounding it—he’d been having a panic attack. He’d needed that hands on support. 

 Deep down, you knew that he hadn’t kissed you for that reason. There was no doubt that it’d been genuine, full of feeling and a fervour that you could feel all the way in your toes; Conrad Fisher had been wanting to kiss you for a long while. 

 You didn’t want to keep it a secret, so to speak. But there was also a part of you that didn’t want to discuss anything with the girls until you and Conrad had talked yourselves. And there was nothing wrong with that. 

 It was Belly and Jeremiah’s time, now. Not yours. Not Conrad’s. 

 They’d find out soon. That’s what you wanted. 

 “God, Bells,” you let out, wrapping your arms around her and swaying back and forth. You look at the chairs laid out on the sand, at the altar before the ocean. It looks beautiful. “I can’t believe this is happening,”

 Belly squeezes you fondly. “Finally,” she lets out. You can feel the relief and excitement slip out of her body and onto the sand below her feet, getting picked up by the breeze softly. 

 “Who wants boozy lemonade to celebrate?” Jeremiah yells, a huge grin on his face. 

 “I do!” Taylor exclaims, slaloming through the chairs excitedly. 

 All of you stroll back to the house, elated, happy, smiles all round. Steven and Shayla walk hand in hand, looking at each other in the lovey-dovey way that you’ve got used to over the past month. Seeing Steven—all of them—in love has hit you hard. 

 They’re all grown. So are you, though it doesn’t feel like it. 

 It’s impossible to stop reminiscing; memories are etched in every wall of the beach house; flashbacks are felt and shared whenever someone brings up a story or anecdote. It makes you feel warm to know that, in a few years, you’ll all be here and reminiscing of the wedding, too. 

 Belly takes a large, refreshing gulp of lemonade. Jere immediately giggles. “Take it easy, baby,” he lets out. Belly raises her brows at him, while the table goes knowingly quiet. 

 “Come on, Jere. She’s not that bad anymore,” Steven chimes in. 

 “Just don’t remind her of when she was sixteen,” Conrad lets out, and Belly slams her palms down on the table. 

 “Hey! No fair. My tolerance has aged alongside me,” Belly argues. 

 “Wait, wait—fill me in,” you ask, shuffling to the edge of your seat. You leaned your chin on your hands, waiting patiently. 

 “Summer, seven years ago,” Jere set the scene. “It’s the 4th of July, a momentous occasion—,”

 “Get to the good part,” you rush him. Conrad lets out a scoff. 

 “Fine,” Jere says, disapproving. “Belly had one too many pomegranate margaritas,”

 “Try three too many,” Conrad lets out. Belly sends him a death stare across the table, clutching onto her lemonade possessively. 

 “So—she trips down the back steps, and falls right into Mom... who’s carrying a cake,” 

 “No,” you let out, shocked. 

 “The cake and the stand—ruined,” 

 “No,” you repeat. “Belly,” you turn to her, amusement on your lips. 

 “I know, I know,” she says, embarrassed slightly but still donning the sweetest smile. “Not my finest moment that summer. Or ever, really,”

 “Sounds like a lot happened that summer,” you tap your glass. You feel jealous, all of a sudden. You’d missed so many years, so many events. You’d missed Belly’s drama and... Conrad’s lowest. 

 Maybe, if you’d been there, it wouldn’t have been so awful for him? Could you have helped? Could you have soothed and comforted him? Talked to him? Just been there? Conrad had texted a lot that summer, just not about anything particularly important. 

 It was always the occasional “u up?” text from him, when you knew he was suffering through an evening lull in Cousins. If you were awake (you mostly were) then you’d text back immediately, asking him to tell you everything that was happening. 

 He never did, not really. 

 went on the boat today. i’m teaching this writer guy how to sail.

 How exciting! Is he any good?

 no. he’s fucking terrible. getting the knots out of the way before we try anything more advanced.

 How is everyone? Belly, Jere and Steven? 

 fine. we’re all good.

 Any news or drama? ;)

 sleep well. see you soon.

 He’d been so avoidant of getting deep and personal, so unlike the Conrad you got to know growing up. You knew he cut himself off from people easily, but to cut himself off from you had done a number on you, especially from such a distance away. 

 Different continents, to be exact. 

 “Yeah, a lot did happen,” Conrad speaks up, taking a sip of his drink. The faces around the table drop slightly. It’s a touchy subject, a touchy year it seems. You do the only logical thing. 

 “Well— to growing older and wiser,” you raise your glass in a toast. Everyone follows suit happily, the smiles erupting back on their sunken faces. 

 “To moving on from the past,” Conrad adds, adding his glass last. Jere smiles at his brother fondly, eyes beaming as some unspoken milestone has been reached. Conrad moving on. Conrad getting better. Conrad being okay. 

 Everyone clinks their glasses, taking gulps of lemonade afterwards and trying not to laugh so hard that it comes out of their noses. 

 Belly and Jere separate in the evening. They hug each other tightly, squeezing each other until you’re sure one of them is going to pop. Jeremiah moves himself to Conrad’s room, taking the bed while Conrad takes the mattress on the floor. You stay in the guest room again. You moved Susannah’s clothes off the mattress, organising some of her belongings—old photo albums, bottles of perfume, sandals in every colour. 

 The Cousins house is quiet, apart from the subtle buzz of excitement that radiates underneath every door frame. Every creak of the floorboards and the house settling rattles throughout the walls. The toilet flushing mimics an earthquake. The light outside gets steadily more yellow, like a volcano about to erupt. 

 You’re on edge, but you don’t know why. You only sleep for a few hours, before your stomach ties itself in knots too relentlessly for you to relax. The only option is to get up, splash some water on your face and head down to the dock. 

 It’s around 6am, but Cousins is already alive. The waves never rest, the birds chirp all night, the crickets don’t settle until the first burst of a coffee machine. Cousins never sleeps; the same as you whenever you’re in the beach house. You stay awake with it, listening to the sounds, feeling the waves vibrate through the earth below, watching from the dock in your pyjama shorts and an oversized sweatshirt that you found in Susannah’s pile of old clothes. 

 It's faded, worn, but the name Cousins Country Club is still just about visible. It makes you happy to think of her, Susannah, young and enjoying her summers at the country club. Laurel and your mother by her side, best friends—until your parents stopped attending summers here, after the divorce. 

 You suck in a deep breath, feeling the chill of the early morning air. It invigorates your lungs, pushing away the subtle tiredness behind your eyes. 

 “Bad dream?” his voice sounds so much louder at this time, making you flinch and let out a soft squeal. You exhale as soon as your gaze hits his hazel eyes. 

 “Don’t do that,” you let out. 

 “What?” Conrad says, amused smile on his lips. He approaches you slowly, hands in his pockets of his shorts, bare feet on the dock. You lean back against the wooden railing, smiling at his infectious, smug face. 

 “Sneak up on me,” 

 “I wasn’t sneaking,” he replies, but you don’t buy it.

 “What were you doing then?” you quip. You’re face to face now, peering up at him while he looks down at you softly. He parts his legs slightly, allowing your own to thread through his, so he’s standing over you, almost. 

 Conrad lets out the smallest of chuckles, one reserved solely for the fondness he harbours for you. Gently, he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, ruffled by the ocean breeze. 

 “Admiring you,”

 You duck your head to the dock, letting out an embarrassed sigh and smiling to oblivion. Conrad’s fingers linger on your jaw, keeping you close. When you finally look back up, he’s beaming at you like the sun. The urge to grab his shirt and pull him into you is immense, but you bite back the cravings. 

 “Jere snores like a lawnmower,” Conrad says suddenly, and you let out a scoff. 

 “Couldn’t sleep?” you ask. Conrad shakes his head gently, thumb swiping across your jaw softly. 

 “No,” he admits. “Not just because of his snoring,” you hold your breath gently, knowing what he’s about to get at. You find yourself wanting to hear him say it. You don’t know why. “It doesn’t feel right. Sleeping without you,” he lets out, and you allow yourself to breathe once more. 

 Conrad’s honesty was one of the main things you liked about him—despite the rarity. Biting back his feelings meant biting back everything that made him wonderful. 

 But when he was like this; truthful; open; unafraid; you were immediately reminded of what made him your favourite person, all those years ago. 

 “It is a little lonely,” you let out softly, biting your cheeks in an attempt to wipe away the embarrassed look in your eyes. You felt like a child with a crush all over again; the butterflies in your stomach; the growing warmth on your face; the desire to always be this close. 

 But it’s undercut by the mass anxiety of the elephant in the room. You kissed. And you hadn’t talked about it at all. 

 “Do you... want to share again?” Conrad suggests, gently leaning forward a touch more. His fingers brush down to the back of your neck and stay there, gently fiddling with your baby hairs. 

 You want to kiss him again, want to feel his warmth on your skin and taste the ocean on his lips. 

 “Conrad,” you can’t right now. “Can we talk about what happened yesterday?” 

 His face drops gently, into something more serious. You think you’ve fucked up, turned him off, made this more scary than it needs to be—but he nods once, staying close. 

 “Of course,” he whispers. Your gut twists into knots; maybe from relief; maybe from the fact that you now had to discuss what happened.

 “I just...” you scan him slowly, taking in every crevice and curve, the freckles dotted on his arms and the incredibly subtle ones on his nose. “I just want to know where we stand,” 

 “Well,” Conrad lets out confidently. It’s radiating off him now in waves, surrounding you and only making you feel more nervous. He’s always had this charm that he’s able to switch on and off like that. “Right now, I’m standing here, with you,” he says, and you let out an amused sigh. 

 “Conrad—,” you go to protest, but are cut off by the most gentle of taps on your forehead. He’s holding his finger up to your skull again, the same way he’d done after you’d gawked at him washing the Jeep. 

 “I wasn’t finished,” he whispers. You swallow away the lurching feeling to fling yourself at him. “I’m standing here, with you. And all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you again, the way I did yesterday,” as he talks, his finger trickles down your cheek, until his arm drops to your waist snuggly. “All I can think about is how much I want to sleep next to you at night, and wake up to you in the morning,”

 Your eyes widen. Your heartrate accelerates. You feel frozen, stuck, unable to fathom the words that pour from his lips—lips that you loved the taste of.

 “Is that what you’re thinking about, too?” he chides softly, and you gulp away your nerves enough to talk. 

 “I’m thinking a lot, right now,” you let out, overwhelmed and exhausted but on cloud nine to the highest degree. Everything about this summer was finally slotting into place. The looks, the stares, the soft touches whenever you passed and the insatiable urge to feel him beneath the sheets of his shared bed. 

 “Maybe you should stop thinking for a second,” he says, as he slowly begins to inch ever closer. Your heartbeat speeds up tenfold, but your body won’t move a muscle. You want this to happen, you just can’t believe that it is. 

 “What if this isn’t smart?” you whisper, as Conrad’s lips are so close to your own that you can practically taste the salt already. He stops gently, letting out a soft sigh through his nose. His grip on the back of your neck tightens. 

 “I never said I was smart,” he whispers. “You’ve always been the smart one,” 

 “Then what if I fuck it up?” you let out, in a last-ditch attempt to rationalise your sudden fears and worries. All it does is make Conrad’s expression soften deeper, as his eyes scan the entirety of your face fondly. 

 “That’s my job,” he says it with a finality that hits you to your core, before neither of you can cope any longer. 

 You plunge your lips on his, feeling every goosebump on his skin, every stretch of his muscles and every drip of desire that he has for you. He picks you up swiftly, letting out a soft chuckle as he drops you down atop on the wooden rail of the dock. You wrap your legs around his torso easily, pulling him into you to stop yourself from falling backwards—and just because you want to. 

 Kissing Conrad Fisher was like nothing else. Your stomach knots and your muscles contract and expand and force shivers in every direction. Down your legs, your arms, your neck, standing every hair on edge as if you were trying to pull him further into you; but it was impossible. 

 He couldn’t possibly be any closer than this. Not after this. Not ever. 

 You kiss for what feels like hours, clutching onto Conrad’s shirt as he gently pries his fingers into your bare thighs. His nails scratch at you softly, sending tingles down your spine. Your breath is utterly gone, but your lungs hold on as if you’re in survival mode. You can’t get enough of this—of him—so you hold on for dear life. You suck in small breaths when you can, relishing in the blissful feeling of Conrad’s lips as they peck hungrily down your neck and sit like phantoms against your skin.

 When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathing heavily. Your faces are warm, full of colour and life, your lungs invigorated and exhausted, your limbs shaking subtly from the cravings you both harbour to continue; to not stop; not ever.

 But you can’t. 

 In less than an hour, the wedding prep begins. 

 Conrad plants one more kiss against your lips, inhaling as much of you as he possibly can, before he finally gives in and pulls away for good. Even so he still holds you, letting your arms drape around his neck as he peers at you, eye to eye, at this height. 

 Gently, he lets out a laugh. He’s not laughing at you, he’s laughing at the relief. The obvious release of finally giving in, the understanding that you both want this; that it’s finally out in the open for you both to witness. 

 “God,” he breathes out shakily, alongside small chuckles that burst from his salt-stained lips. “You really are something,” 

 You scoff in his face, not used to these words coming from his mouth, however much you welcome them. “Fuck off,” you stay as softly as humanly possible, so he knows you don’t mean it. He knows you’re teasing. 

 He squeezes you once, smiling like the sun and stars combined. “Muffin run?” he suggests, and you’re thankful for it. As much as the desire to continue to beyond this is impossible to shrug away, he knows that now isn’t the time either. 

 “Muffin run,” you agree, as he gently helps you down from the ledge of the dock. When he drops you to the floor, he holds you by the waist comfortably, peering down at you with a drunk look in his eyes that makes you want to suddenly rip his clothes off. 

 Not now. 

 Instead, you send him a mischievous grin. “Race you to the Jeep?”

 “You’re on—,” you smack him playfully as you whisk past him in a sudden sprint. It buys you a few seconds, before he’s on your trail immediately. “Cheater!” 

 You think this is the best summer in Cousins that you’ve ever had. 

 --------------

 Throughout the morning before the wedding, every time you pass Conrad it’s like you’re seeing him again for the first time—

 When you were young, the first summer you can remember at age six—swimming in the sea and board games on the kitchen table. 

 When you were prepubescent, certain that you hated all boys—only hanging out with Belly but secretly relishing in the teasing that Conrad shot your way when you were ten, eleven, twelve years old.  

 When you were a teenager, when your clothes didn’t fit right and your body was in a perpetual state of uncomfortable—Conrad would never bat an eye about how you hugged your tummy when you wore your bathing suit or the tantrums you had when deciding what to wear outside the house. 

 When you were sixteen, with longer legs and larger curves and a face that was slowly forming itself into who you were now—the summer your parents’ marriage fell apart, but the summer that you and Conrad finally cemented yourselves together. The summer he became your favourite person.

 The next four years are blank, an empty void of a life you once used to live, but couldn’t fathom anymore. They all called you when they could, updating you on summer happenings and sending you videos of 4th of the July fireworks on the beach, the clam pit in the sand, playing chicken in the pool. Not your mom or dad; you. They knew you missed them. They wanted you here, in Cousins. 

 It's crazy to think that the final summer where you were all together was nine years ago. 

 All of you. 

 When you were twenty, Susannah Fisher died. You knew she’d been ill, but only from afar. You’d sent cards, sent your love, called when you could, but as her health deteriorated further it was obvious that time was up. 

 The day that Conrad told you she’d died, he didn’t cry—

 But the day that you stepped foot in Cousins for the funeral, he burst into tears in the seclusion of his ensuite bathroom. 

 Jeremiah heard him through the walls. They weren’t quiet tears—they were wracking sobs, filling the entire house with his crystalline tears of the past three years of hardship that he’d dealt with. Keeping it all inside, staying strong for his little brother, for Belly and Steven, for Laurel. 

 After the funeral, he was quiet. Dressed in his Sunday best, Conrad Fisher looked like a fish out of water. His eyes were red and tired, his smile non-existent, his body completely numb to the service you’d all just endured. You hadn’t said much to him since arriving, other than through silent stares. 

 A hug as you arrived, his absence after your return, the want to spill everything to him if it meant he’d open up to you in return.

 Only when the wine started flowing, did he start talking. 

 Out the back of the beach house, after the funeral, was the first time you’d all been together—without Susannah. Her absence grew stronger the more red wine you all drank, but so too did the laughter and sharing of memories. You still thought of that time fondly, despite the hell that came after. 

 All because Conrad finally opened his mouth about something real. 

 “It feels like she’s still here, almost,” you let out softly. “Like she’s just upstairs, replacing all the flowers and filling up the vases with more water,”

 “Of course, you’d say that,” Conrad let out suddenly, and the air of disgust in his voice was immediately known. You turned to him, frowning. The others all held their breath at his abruptness. It was the most he’d spoken to you all week. 

 “What do you mean by that?” you ask carefully, tiptoeing around your words.

 “The Susannah you remember wasn’t the one we all fucking saw,” he says venomously. Your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach. 

 “That’s enough, Conrad,” Laurel pipes up, but he’s too far gone. 

 “It’s true though, isn’t it?” he keeps going. “She wasn’t fucking here. She didn’t fucking come back until now,” 

 “You—,” you start, but something within you holds yourself back. You still want to be sensitive with him. He’s hurting, he’s been through a lot, but your tether was quickly burning to an end. He’s being unnecessarily cruel. “You know why I haven’t been able to come back, Conrad,” 

 “So what?” he says, louder this time, clutching onto the neck of a red wine bottle with white knuckles. “Your parents split up, so fucking what?”

 “Conrad,” Belly tries next, but he sends her a stare so harsh that she intakes a sharp breath and holds her tongue immediately. 

 “You went through it, too. We all had shitty marriage break ups— but we still showed the fuck up,” he turns back to you, looking at you so grimly that you can feel your chest start to tighten. The silence around the group is so thick that you’re struggling to breathe. 

 “That’s what you think of me?” you let out slowly, croaking through your words as you try not to cry. You clench your jaw. “You think I never gave a shit about this—about Susannah?”

 He takes a swig of wine. 

 “Not enough of one to come back when I needed you,” 

 You snap, suddenly and irreversibly. “When you needed me? You didn’t talk to me for near on two years, Conrad. Nothing more than a fucking phone call every six months, ones that lasted seconds. No replies when I checked in, no communication when I tried desperately to reach out and be there—,”

 “Be there,” he repeats over you, laughing grotesquely. 

 “How was I supposed to know how much you needed me if you never fucking talked to me?” you let out finally, not trying to hide the welling tears in your eyes.

 You want to shout, want to yell, want to shake his shoulders and say I would have fucking come if you’d told me to. I would have bitten away my hurt in this house and hopped on a plane just for you—but you don’t.

 He doesn’t deserve it right now, not after the sudden outburst at your expense. Not with how he’s staring at you like you’re the worst person he’s ever known.

 “How dare you say that I’ve never cared,” you let out, voice cracking along with your heart. “You know—,” you bite your tongue painfully, as you try and pace your words calmly. “You know I would have come if you’d asked me,” 

 “This is stupid,” Steven speaks up suddenly, overriding the silence of the others. “There’s no need to fucking fight about this. She’s here now, Conrad. Things got in the way, but she’s here now—,”

 “Three years too late,” Conrad cuts over him venomously. When he catches your eye again, you see the cogs in his brain pick out the most hurtful words and place them into a sentence; one that he knows will kill you. “You should have fucking stayed away, where you belong. You shouldn’t have come back,”

 Away. Where you belong. 

 You stand up immediately, dropping your wine glass by accident. It crashes to the floor, smashing against the patio tiles and splattering them with red. Maybe it was symbolic—the glass was your love for Conrad Fisher, breaking into a million shards. The wine was your soul, trickling over the floor with no hope of being mopped up. 

 Conrad takes another swig of wine, standing opposite you slowly. He’s always been taller than you, but this is the first time he’s felt foreign. Like a threat. Like you don’t know him. 

 “What?” he questions, with a degree of false care, like a bully in the schoolyard. “Gonna run away again?”

 You almost smash the glass of the back door when you push it open, bounding inside the house and up the stairs as you try to contain your want to scream at the top of your lungs. Even if you’d tried, nothing would have come out. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t feel anything other than your heart fucking breaking. 

 From your room upstairs, you see the faint image of four people walking down the dock—Belly, Laurel, Steven and Jere, as they all hold each other and try and calm themselves down from what they’ve just witnessed. 

 Conrad’s not there. 

 They were used to you two fighting, but not like this. 

 Not this venom filled. Not this hurtful. Not this destroying. 

 You hear him walking up the stairs before you can even think about what to do. You want to jump out of the window and avoid him, you want to wrap your hands around his shoulders and hold him tightly, just so you could transfer every desperate feeling you had left into him—but you do neither. 

 You stand in the middle of the guest room as he creaks the door open, wine bottle still in his hand, a look you’d never seen before on his face—

 Rage and want, combined.

 “Get away from me,” you say shakily, quickly opening drawers and grabbing all of your clothes. You drop them on the bed, before hunting for your suitcase. You didn’t wish to stay, not after this. 

 He steps closer, and you scream at him instinctively. “I mean it, Conrad!” 

 “Why didn’t you come back?” he says softly, making you flinch at the fucking mood change after what he’d said before. 

 “What?” you let out reflexively. 

 “Do you know how much better things would have been if you’d just come back?” he continues, and you’re so taken aback by his shifting mood that you raise your hands to your head. He’s fucking with you—he has to be—messed up from the exhaustive emotions of the day, and the booze on top. 

 “You don’t get to talk to me right now,” you say pathetically, because you’ve never been able to deny Conrad Fisher before—even now, you don’t know how to yell at him to leave. You don’t know how to scream at him to take back every single disgusting word he said you only minutes earlier. “You—you don’t get to make me still care—,”

 “Do you still care?” he adds. You flinch, before letting out an instinctive:

 “Fuck you,” you bite back at him. “Fuck you, Conrad,” he doesn’t listen as he takes a few steps closer to you. You eject your body backwards, until it hits the windowsill, and you can’t go anywhere else. You sit on the large ledge, needing to rest your shaking legs.

 Gently, Conrad places the wine bottle on the bedside table. Drying tears litter his cheeks, alongside your own; the sticky kind, the ones that you know you’ll feel tomorrow. Your heavy breaths fill the room with a red wine and red rage tint, soaking into every floorboard and every pore of your skin. 

 As Conrad approaches, you let out an uncontrollable sob. It hits your lungs harshly, making you crumple like a balled-up piece of paper. You hold your head in your hands, chest bubbling with sharp breaths; the inconsolable kind, the kind that make you feel like you have hiccups so harshly that they hurt. 

 You barely feel him when he wraps his fingers around your wrists, kneeling down to your level. He pries your hands away from your face slowly, and you can’t stop yourself from meeting his eyes. 

 How is this the man that just said all that to you? This man, this broken soul of a beautiful man, with his pretty face and broader shoulders and soft hair that you’d always wanted to run your fingers through. 

 Your favourite person; once. 

 How had he said all that to you?

 “How could you ever say such things to me?” you ask him what you wish to know.  

 “Because I meant them,” he says softly, despite his words not being soft. “Do you know how much it hurt to go through these years without you? I’ll always resent you for it,”

 He’s saying such awful things in such a soft and honeyed tone that you don’t know what the fuck is going on. Your neurons are firing at each other relentlessly, trying desperately to understand his words like an undiscovered relic.  

 “You’re—,” you stutter once more, on the brink of throwing up every conflicting feeling inside your head. He’s fucking with you, shouting at you about things out of your control, and then begging for you to love him all over again, while admitting that he’ll always harbour malice for you about this one thing. 

 One thing that was out of your control. That you weren’t strong enough for. 

 Why did you leave? Why didn’t you stay? Why don’t you fuck off back to where you belong?

 “You’re fucking confusing me, Conrad. I can’t do this,” you cry softly, as you feel the gentle swipe of his thumbs over your knuckles.

 His eyes are glassy, his face red and blotchy, but he doesn’t look angry anymore. He just looks sad, he looks abandoned. 

 As do you, from the realisation that, despite him harbouring this resentment for you leaving, he never fucking tried to get you to come back. Not once. Maybe not ever again, after this. 

 Was this it? 

 Was this the end of summers in Cousins? 

 Was this the last time you’d ever see Conrad Fisher again in your life?

 “I’ve never seen you cry so hard,” he says, voice slowly returning to some semblance of normal. “Is this all from what I said?” he asks, curious, as if he’s suddenly understanding how much his words mean to you. His eyes glint then, once and fast, as his brain speeds up and understands that he’s fucked up. 

 How he didn’t realise that while he was talking before, you’ll never know. Not even to this day.

 But Conrad Fisher works in mysterious ways. 

 “Why?” he whispers, dropping his forehead to yours suddenly and closing his eyes. You keep yours open, stuck on the floorboards below. “Why does what I say matter to you this much?” 

 You swallow down bile, but not your hurt. No number of sudden apologies would fix this for you. No number of bunches of flowers or muffin runs or forehead taps or smiles would fix this. What he’d said had been true, because he’d fucking admitted it. 

 He thought you didn’t belong. 

 He thought you didn’t care. 

 And now, he was wondering why the fuck his words moved mountains when it came to you. Why the fuck his words pierced, bruised, ruined you inside and out. 

 “Because I love you too much,” you whisper, spluttering through the words with difficulty. 

 You meant it as goodbye, maybe. 

 When you pull away finally, Conrad’s eyes immediately land on your lips. Tears begin crawling down his face elegantly once more, but his eyes are so wide and full of a shock that he can’t quite place. You can feel the thump of his heart within his fingertips.

 He doesn’t think when he goes to slam his lips against yours, skimming your skin with the taste of the ocean, before you explode. 

 You stand abruptly and push him away, tears welling in your eyes again. “What are you doing?” you let out a cry, tensing your entire body. He stumbles backwards, chest heaving, shoulders drooped. He’s surprised he almost kissed you too; surprised because it never occurred to him until then the extent of how much he wanted and needed you. 

 You’re trying not to hyperventilate, overwhelmed by the stark contrast of his actions over the last minute and a half. “Why— why would you do that?” you cry, trying desperately to make any sense of the situation. 

 “I don’t know,” Conrad breathes out shakily, stepping slowly backwards until he bumps into the bed. He stumbles onto the mattress, landing with a thud as he tries to make sense of his own doing.

 He can’t. You know he can’t. The look on his face is numb to everything he said, everything he’s done, since the bottle of red wine was de-corked. 

 You clutch your chest, trying to slow down the rate of your heart, but you know it won’t get any better with him still here. “Get out,” you say bluntly, plainly, tears streaming down your face and confusion racing through your mind.

 He stands then, a desperate look on his pretty boy face. He reaches out to you once, but you step back quickly and repeat “Get out, Conrad,” stronger this time. 

 He sends you a final pleading look, before turning and bounding to the door. He slams it shut behind him, and you can hear his frantic footsteps thumping back down the stairs and out into the night-time Cousins air. 

 The next morning, you fly back to England. 

 You didn’t return to Cousins for five fucking years. 

 But seeing him now, after all this time; tux donned with a pinned white rose to match Jeremiah, Belly and the bridesmaids, it feels like a different world to the one that you’re living now. 

 This Conrad is grown. He’s getting better. He doesn’t take his words and actions for granted. He thinks about consequences while also reaching for things—for people—that he loves and adores. This Conrad is so vastly changed from the one you grew up with that you can hardly believe how long it’s been. 

 You stop, face to face on the landing of the beach house, looking each other up and down and smiling to oblivion. 

 “You scrub up well,” you say sweetly, reaching out to straighten the rose on his lapel. 

 “So do you, but I already knew that,” he replies, sending you the softest stare imaginable and tracing his eyes up and down your body. He’s thinking of the morning, when his lips were on yours. You know he is, because you are, too. “Is Belly ready?” he chides. 

 “Almost,” you say, glancing back to her bedroom door. Shayla, Taylor and Laurel are still inside, drinking mimosas and applying the finishing touches to Belly’s hair. “Do you want to see her?” you ask, because Conrad’s stare is burning a hole through the damn door. 

 It’s now that you recall the small fling Conrad and Belly had, all those years ago, when you knew details from afar. You wonder what it’s like for him now to see her grown; about to be married to his baby brother. 

 Conrad lets out a nervous scoff. “Am I allowed?” he lets out. 

 “Of course,” you say gently, before reaching out for his hand. You intertwine your fingers with his softly, gently tugging him to the door before he can back out. 

 You knock on the door once, and Belly lets out an anxiously excited come in!

 “I have a visitor with me,” you say, rounding the door with Conrad on your tail. You tug him into the room, and when his eyes land upon Belly; fully dressed in her wedding gown, hair up, glowing like the damn sun; you can’t help but smile. 

 Conrad takes her in slowly, gently, all the while with his chest heaving in heavy and deep breaths to stabilise his heartbeat. You squeeze his hand supportively, and he lets out an amazed chuckle. “Fuck,” is all he says, and Belly laughs at him; overwhelmed with emotion. 

 His hand leaves yours when he goes to hug her, breathing her in warmly. “You look beautiful, Belly,” he whispers into her ear. 

 “Thank you,” she whispers back, while the rest of you try not to tear up at their embrace. 

 “Where’s Jere?” you ask Conrad, as he pulls out of the hug. 

 “Down on the beach. He’s been there most of the morning,” he chuckles. “Guests started arriving about twenty minutes ago, so he’s been doing the rounds,” 

 “Good boy,” Belly mutters beneath her breath, before her eyes suddenly widen. Her face drops into a small frown. “Is... your dad here?” 

 Ah. Their earlier fight. 

 “Not yet,” Conrad says knowingly. “And when he arrives, you don’t have to worry about it,” he adds, turning back to you gently. He winks once. “I’m on my best behaviour today,” 

 “Is your hipflask empty?” Laurel questions, and you let out an abrupt scoff. 

 “I think liquor is the only way any of us are going to get through seeing Adam, Laurel,” you say bluntly, and by her shrug you can tell she agrees, as much as she doesn’t want to. Conrad steps back into you once more, finding your hand instinctively behind his back. His thumb swipes over your knuckles impulsively. You’ve always liked it. 

 “T-minus thirty minutes, Belly,” Taylor says, rushed. She’s sweating from her brow and clutching a still hot curling iron. “Visiting hours are over,” she adds, glaring at Conrad sternly. He raises his other hand in defeat, backing away slowly.

 “Noted,” he lets out, while Laurel, Taylor and Shayla go back to fussing over Belly’s hair. He turns to you then, hand still clutched in yours. “I’ll see you later,” he says softly, only for you, despite everyone in the room being able to hear. 

 Gently, he leans in and places a kiss upon your cheek. You flush immediately, eyes widening in surprise. Before you can properly react—or even breathe properly—Conrad leaves the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. 

 When you turn back to the girls, they’re all staring at you with smug smiles on their faces. It only makes you flush further. “What?” you let out bluntly. 

 “Nothing,” Shayla says, looking at the floor with a knowing smile. 

 “Nothing,” Laurel adds, when you move your stare onto her fiercely. 

 “Nothing,” Belly lets out, raising her brows at you before turning back to the mirror. 

 “So, you and Conrad fucked,” Taylor says abruptly, and the entire room bursts with cheers and scoffs and laughter. You point at her sternly, flustered, angry but not fully rageful. 

 “No—we haven’t yet—,” you stutter. 

 “Yet?” Laurel cuts in. You grab a mimosa quickly and take a chaste sip, but it gets caught in the back of your throat. 

 “Not yet—as in, not yet—but no, wait—not yet, not yet, that’s not what I meant—,” you panic and stutter and mimosa tries to eject itself through your nose. Belly’s laughter stops softly, as her hand touches your shoulder gently. 

 “Chill. We’re just messing with you,” she says reassuringly. 

 “But, you guys are going to fuck, aren’t you?” Taylor adds, and Laurel smacks her playfully. You’re trying not to faint from how much mimosa went down your windpipe. 

 “Enough, leave the poor girl alone,” Laurel persists, as everyone resorts back to helping Belly finish. The silence lingers for too long though, as you finally calm down and find yourself tapping your glass incessantly. 

 The silence was too loud. You simply had to fill it.

 “We did kiss, though,” you say abruptly, and everyone stops. “Twice. Once this morning, actually— on the dock before everyone woke up. And it could have been more, definitely,” you take another sip of mimosa. “But, it was just a kiss,” 

 You catch Shayla’s eye first; she’s smiling at you with all of her teeth. “I knew it. Assets,” and you can’t help but laugh. Their chatter starts up immediately, with questions firing at you like machine gun rounds. 

 The girls gab like housewives, poking and prodding and asking a million questions. You give up avoiding it and tell them everything. The fight, his panic attack, the first kiss, the dock. All the while, through their bouts of laughter and smugness and playfulness, there’s an understanding and almost proud feeling behind their eyes. 

 They’ve wanted this for you. They’re happy that it’s happening. The weight that lifts from your shoulders immediately is immense—it’s not just you and Conrad that know, now. It makes it feel more real. 

 The five of you straighten yourselves out, triple checking hair and make-up, before it’s finally time to travel down for the service. The faint noise of band music drifts in with the ocean breeze, bringing the sweet sound of violins and a cello playing a soft, romantic melody. 

 Taylor gently holds the train of Belly’s dress, all the way out to the beach. You link arms with Laurel, trying not to explode from excitement as you all walk together, matching bridesmaids’ dresses donned, tears already forming behind your eyes. 

 On the beach, before the rows of chairs, the groomsmen line up at the back; in order of who they’re escorting. Taylor and Steven are first, as the Best Man and the Maid of Honour—

 They link arms, as the music changes to a traditional wedding ballad. The guests all rise from their seats in the sand, turning to the side to witness everyone walking down the aisle; one by one; couple by couple. 

 Taylor and Steven link arms, walking slowly down the central aisle first. You can already feel tears welling behind your eyes, emotion seeping into your very bones as you realise that this is it—

 Belly and Jeremiah are getting fucking married. Finally. After all this time. 

 You slowly inch forward in line, as Laurel and Cleveland are next in line. Cleveland was a last-minute addition to Jere’s groom party, but everyone welcomed him with open arms. The two of them stroll down the aisle, clutching each other close as Laurel holds her bouquet of white roses beautifully. 

 Shayla is next, paired up with one of Jeremiah’s closest friends form Boston. They link arms softly and travel down the sand together. Jere’s friend winks dramatically at the guests, making a few of them snigger to themselves as they approach the altar. 

 You barely realise it’s your turn—until you’re face to face with him. Conrad stands before you, tux donned, fancy shoes on his feet, a few wisps of hair breaking free from his head in the breeze. You hold your breath instantly, your heart thumping so melodramatically that you almost want to tell it off under your breath. 

 Gently, Conrad reaches out his hand to you. “Ready?” he whispers. You suck in an even deeper breath, blowing it out slowly as you compose yourself. 

 “Ready,” you nod once, taking his hand in yours and allowing him to guide you down the aisle.

 The sand beneath your feet doesn’t feel real, this time. When before, it had offered you an element of being grounded, it now felt as if you were walking on air. Soft, squishy, air. It was a miracle that you didn’t topple over, but having Conrad next to you, holding you, kept you stable. 

 You look towards the altar, after avoiding every single pair of guest eyes from nervousness. Jere stands in the centre, hands clasped together in front of him, hair fluffy and poofy as always, white rose pinned on his lapel. You can’t see any fear in his eyes; just joy; just love. 

 He and Conrad glance at each other. Conrad nods once. Jere lets out an overwhelmed chuckle to himself, before ducking his gaze to the floor. 

 You glance at the bridesmaids once, but all you’re met with are smug and prying faces. Taylor raises her eyebrows at you once, and you immediately look away from her, your cheeks gaining warmth violently. After all that you told them, it’s no wonder why they look at you and Conrad this way—they’re simply waiting for the day you say so... we fucked. 

 When you and Conrad part at the altar, he takes his time to skim his fingers down the extent of your arm. Touching your skin softly, gently gripping his fingers on yours for a second too long, before parting ways entirely. You take your spots on each side of the altar, at the end of the line of prospective bridesmaids and groomsmen. 

 When Belly starts walking down the aisle, arm in arm with Mr Conklin, your body ceases to move. You’re frozen in place, staring at this girl—this woman—before you. Grown up, beautiful, shining with the same radiance as the very sun that lights Cousins in the morning. 

 She’s gleaming, eyes only on one thing; Jeremiah Fisher. 

 Just beyond Shayla, Laurel’s gently weeping. Silently, no sound whatsoever, tears stream down her red and blotchy cheeks. Her baby is getting married. 

 It was like this had always been her destiny. Growing up, not knowing, both you and Belly, you wonder now how it hadn’t been so fucking obvious. Her and Jeremiah; it was written in fucking stone. As clear as day, they were meant to be together all along—it’d just taken some extra time for them to figure it out.

 You wonder if this is what it feels like for her, too. For Belly, stood at the altar, saying her vows to the man she so clearly and deeply loves; does it feel like a breath of fresh air? Does she feel stupid for never realising it before, when he was around? When Conrad took up every fibre of her being instead?

 During the commitments, you look over to Conrad, just as Belly says I do. You smile at him, eyes bubbling, soul hurling itself at him. It’s impossible not to feel some type of love when watching someone—especially Belly and Jere—get married. 

 Jeremiah is asked the same commitment, breathing in and out deeply as the silence floods over the beach beforehand. 

 “Do you, Jeremiah Fisher, take Isabel Conklin to be your lawfully wedded wife; to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?” 

 Conrad’s stare doesn’t leave yours the entire time, and before Jere can even respond, he mouths an I do at you. Slowly, intentionally, only meant for you out of everyone else on the beach. He means it. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health—Conrad Fisher was sending you a vow. 

 A vow to stop this bullshit. 

 A vow to have you, and you him. 

 With two simple words, not even said out loud, you knew—

 He was in for the long run with you. 

 “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister says. “You may kiss the bride,” 

 Jeremiah takes approximately 0.2 seconds to start kissing Belly. He’s been waiting so patiently for so long that now he can’t wait. He lunges towards her strongly, encasing her immediately in an embrace of epic proportions, while flushing his lips against hers. 

 Guests clap, cheering even more so as Jere leans Belly back gently, to the point where she whips her leg up in the air. They both bounce back to standing and finally part; a married fucking couple. 

 Jesus fucking Christ, you think.

 “Jesus fucking Christ,” Conrad says, as soon as the two of you get in line and walk back down the aisle once more. You scoff to yourself, breath hitching in the back of your throat as he gently slithers his fingers down your arm, until they’re intertwined with your own. 

 No one can see this. The subtle touches, the way your heart is beating out of your chest, purely because your arms and hands are covered by the flowing fabric of your skirt and his tux. No one can tell. And maybe that makes it more special; it’s your little secret. 

 Despite the girls knowing what’s happened, you still feel like you’re sneaking around with Conrad, even though you’re not. 

 It makes it feel... exciting. Thrilling. Not allowed, even. 

 All the guests stroll back to the house from the beach, ready for the wedding breakfast. The beach house has been transformed into a gorgeous venue, full of round tables and adorned with white roses, green ferns and bustling lavender sprigs. 

 A huge board leans against the window by the back patio door, telling guests which table setting they have. You and Conrad scan the board as soon as you arrive, and he’s the first to smile. Gently, he sticks his finger out and finds your spots. 

 “Next to each other again,” he says softly, as you peer at where his fingernail lies. 

 The circular table by the top table, full of all the groomsmen and bridesmaids, and of course—Belly had sat you and Conrad next to each other. It was practically laughable. 

 “I guess we’ll be tied at the hip for today,” you let out, amused. You take Conrad’s arm as the two of you enter the house, strolling around the beautifully decorated tables, walls and bannisters, until you reach your table. 

 Conrad separates from you to pull out your chair. You nod at him, embarrassed at how much you can feel the warmth on your cheeks growing, before you go to sit down. As Conrad tucks in your chair, you feel his hot breath on your ear and freeze immediately. 

 “You know, it’s said that bridesmaids and groomsmen are the number one people to hook up at weddings,” he whispers, making your entire body buzz with shivers. “Which is why they’re put on the same table, sat next to each other— bridesmaid and groomsmen, man and woman,” his voice slinks around your entire body. 

 You gulp away the intense want to turn around and kiss him without warning. “You know an awful lot about this,” you let out strongly, putting on an innocent honeyed tone while exhibiting obvious signs of wanting to do the opposite. “Hoping something will happen, are you?” 

 Gently, he rests his hands on your shoulders, swiping his thumb on the back of your neck. You immediately tense up, shoving your legs together as you ball your fists, knuckles turning white. “I’ve got a feeling,” he says plainly, trickling his voice over your bare skin once more.

 “You never know,” you force out, not wanting to appear so desperate, like a melted puddle on the floor. “Your instincts might be right,” you gulp once more, before you turn around to him. 

 You meet his gaze, as he leans forward closer and offers you a fluttering smile. His hair flicks over his eye line, and you gently brush it away with your fingers, bringing your hand down to grab at his tie sensually. “You should act upon them,” 

 “Maybe I will,” he says, huffing gently in your face and exposing a smile so genuinely beautiful that you can’t help but smile back. In an instant, the sensual tension between you dissipates into something playful, something childish, something that both of you know so well. 

 This is how you know. 

 This is how you know that you and Conrad were always meant to be like this, eventually. 

 “It was a lovely ceremony, don’t you think?” the two of you are burst out of your bubble by the unmistakable voice of Adam Fisher. You turn first, abruptly, peering up at him in shock as your eyes begin to adjust. 

 “Yes,” you let out, coughing away an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. “Lovely,” you add, purely to give Conrad time to compose himself. You can feel him next to you, seething but trying not to explode. Everyone knew that Adam was going to turn up, probably—despite the fight that Jere and Belly had about it—and here he was. 

 In front of you for the first time in years. Before, when you didn’t know, when you were young, Adam used to be fun. He used to join in, be there, be part of his gorgeous family; but that all fucking went away after you found out the truth. 

 Cheater. Liar. Deserter. 

 “It’s good to see you,” he says, and you chuckle from embarrassment. “You’ve grown into such a young woman!” he’s trying really hard, you can tell. 

 “That tends to happen after nine years,” Conrad finally speaks. He keeps his hands draped on your shoulders, despite standing up fully. He looks his father in the eye harshly, meanly, but still smiles behind the hate. “Growth,” he adds, smartly.

 “Yes, well,” Adam says, obviously uncomfortable from the way his son is acting so standoffish, but you know Conrad. He’s on his best behaviour, he’s playing fair. Adam Fisher, as far as Jeremiah and Conrad were concerned, was no long a part of their family. 

 His role disappeared long before Susannah died. 

 “You two were quite the pair up there,” he adds, letting out an awkward laugh. 

 “We didn’t see you in the audience,” Conrad says bluntly, ignoring his compliment. Adam swallows away the hit. 

 “Are you, uh, together now?” Adam asks, and you feel Conrad stutter in disbelief. The more questions and word that Adam says, the more Conrad’s blood starts to boil. You gently press your hand to his chest, allowing him to ground himself, before you take in a breath. 

 “It was nice talking to you, Mr Fisher,” you say plainly, and it’s very obvious that means leave. Adam nods once at you, before looking back to Conrad. 

 “See you, son,” he says, before stepping back clumsily, upturned and disappointed smile on his face. Conrad stays silent, before he gently brings his hand to your own, resting upon his chest. 

 You peer up at him, trying your best to extend a warm feeling into him. You can tell that he’s calming down, slowly but surely, but seeing his father again was never going to be easy. It wasn’t about him, or about you, though—it was about Jere and Belly. It was their day. 

 And he knew that. He knew that so well that he’d bit his tongue and held his breath and kept as still and as well-behaved as possible, despite the boiling of his blood and the seething of his bones. 

 “Conrad,” you whisper gently, and his fingers twitch against yours. 

 “Hmm,” he hums, still calming himself down. 

 “It’s fine,” you reassure him. “We’re fine,” 

 “Yeah,” he says, breathing out a deep a shaking breath. “Yeah, you’re right,” he convinces himself. “I’m on my best behaviour,” 

 You grip onto the lapel of his tux then, tugging him forward gently, so you can run your fingers through the strands of hair on his forehead fondly. “I know,” 

 Guests file into the house, mingling and chatting happily. The rest of the groomsmen and bridesmaids join your table, and Conrad finally takes his seat next to you. You drink champagne and laugh through the meal, cheering exceptionally loud whenever Jere and Belly stand for a kiss. 

 As the alcohol flows, Conrad grows ever affectionate. Beneath the table, he grips onto your thigh secretively, every once in a while squeezing you suddenly. You gasp every time, getting embarrassed and trying to play it off to the rest of the party, but by the third or fourth time, you can’t help but move your hand to rest over his. 

 His fingers twist and intertwine with your own, until you’re holding hands beneath the seclusion of the white tablecloth. Away from prying eyes, hearts in your throats and thoughts in your heads that begin to edge away from innocence. 

 Maybe it was the wedding itself; bringing the two of you ever closer.

 Maybe it was the alcohol; ruining your inhibitions and increasing your affections. 

 Maybe it was just Conrad. 

 “Speeches! It’s time for speeches!” Taylor shot up from the top table, dinging a wine glass with her knife. You swivelled in your chair excitedly, scooching closer to Conrad as the two of you settled in to listen. 

 First was Laurel. She spoke beautifully, bluntly, filling the room with a light that everyone latched onto. The laughter flowed, as did the tears when Susannah was mentioned, but those ten minutes whipped by without a single dry eye in the house. 

 Next Steven. You snorted as soon as he said his first line— “Well, now that we got all the sad shit out of the way, let me tell you a story about the day I found out my best friend and my little sister started dating. I hated it.” 

 Steven spouted joke after joke, at Belly and at Jere’s expenses. He told summer anecdotes, spreading joy about the nostalgia of past vacations in Cousins. One of your favourite stories of his was about you and Conrad; despite hiding your face in embarrassment when he said it. 

 “Conrad and her were twelve years old, and like any boy and girl duo at that age—they despised each other," a laugh ascends around the room, one that recognised you definitely didn’t hate each other now. “This was the year that we were all obsessed with pranks. Phone call pranks, knock-knock ginger, sand and seaweed in each other’s mattress’s kind of pranks; but Conrad and her went above and beyond.

 “While Belly, Jere and I got bored of the pranking after a few weeks, they wouldn’t stop. Until... it was too late,” 

 “Oh, God—I remember this,” you mutter to yourself, head in your hands. Conrad gently grabs your wrists, pulling them away from your eyes. You’re forced to meet the happy faces of the top table, while Laurel and Mr Conklin try not to cry with laughter from the memories. 

 “After Conrad threw her in the ocean as his previous prank,” Steven continues “She decided to one up him—big time,”

 “I can’t listen to this, the second-hand embarrassment is destroying me,” you let out, whispering, and Conrad scoffs in your face. 

 “You can’t listen to this? I was the one that got pranked,” he says playfully. 

 “Without anyone knowing, she took alllll the blue food colouring from the kitchen and poured it into the hot tub," a gasp ascends around the room, and you let out an abrupt chuckle from awkwardness and embarrassment. Your cheeks are the temperature of the goddamn sun, but still—Conrad holds your wrists and palms in his lap softly, thumb swiping over your knuckles at all times. 

 His smile is small, sweet. He’s remembering Steven’s story as if he was still there. 

 “So, Conrad comes back from a day of sailing on the boat; tired, hungry, in need of a rest, y’know? So, what does he do?” 

 Oh, fuck my life. 

 “He gets into the hot tub,” 

 Belly snorts champagne out of her nose. Jere laughs even louder after Belly’s explosion. Laurel and Mr Conklin fully encase themselves with laughter. The top table is in uproar, even before Steven got to the punchline of his entire fucking story. 

 Conrad glances around the room, ecstatic. The happy faces of guests fuel him to keep going, despite the wandering eyes of Adam at another table in the house. But this—these story retellings, the amount of love in this room—it doesn’t fucking matter that he’s here. 

 “I mean, we all know that Conrad’s favourite colour is blue, but not enough to dye himself it,” Steven lets out, but he’s barely heard by the incessant laughter around the room. You can’t help it yourself, when bobs of laughter start filtering up through your diaphragm. 

 You turn to Conrad then, face flushed, chuckles bursting from your lips and tears forming in your eyes; he looks at you like he’ll never fucking forget your face in this moment. The cheeks, the eyes, the laughter in your chest. 

 He’ll never fucking forget it. 

 “I had blue in my hair for a week and a half!” Conrad yells suddenly, making sure the whole room can hear him. You lean yourself into him, shoving your hand over his mouth quickly from embarrassment. 

 At that moment, a camera shutter goes off—the wedding photographs from the speeches are sure going to be a laugh to look back at. 

 “I’m sorry!” you yell after him, sliding your hand down his face until it reaches the lapel of his dinner jacket. 

 As Steven finishes up his speech, the room settles into a soft lull of happiness. Everyone is giddy and full of food, drinking wine and beer and sparkling champagne on a glorious Cousins day—together. 

 It feels right to be together again after this long. 

 You don’t want this to end. 

 “And on the groom’s side, Jeremiah’s brother, Conrad, will make the final speech,” Taylor says gently, for the last time. You feel Conrad intake a long and deep breath, before he sends you a soft and knowing look. 

 Slowly, he leans forward and places a peck on your cheek, dropping your hands back down in your lap as he stands. He buttons up his jacket in the middle, picking up his glass of champagne confidently. The room looks at him, mesmerised immediately. 

 “First and foremost, I want to extend a toast to my baby brother—,” he raises his glass, and everyone follows. “I love both of you endlessly, and wish you every happiness for the rest of your lives. To Belly and Jere,” 

 To Belly and Jere.

 “If you know us well, then you know that our families—the Conklin’s, the Fisher’s, and one other—have been coming to Cousins every summer, even before we were all born. My mom met Belly and Steven’s mom, Laurel, in college, and it was a friendship that stood the test of time. From there, our three families bonded,” 

 “It was during these summers that we all grew up together, right here, in this same beach house. It was here that Belly and Jeremiah began,” he speaks so softly and eloquently that you can’t quite believe the person before you is Conrad. He was always a man of little words, communicating in stares or not at all—but you were more than used to figuring him out without a spoken word. 

 Hearing him speak like this, rehearsed but sounding so natural, poised but not robotic; it simply made your heart speed up beneath your ribcage. 

 He was telling the story of us, the story of all of you. 

 “I could tell countless embarrassing stories about Belly and Jere, but in the spirit of change—I’m taking a more sentimental route,” Conrad continues. Jere immediately scoffs.

 “That’s a sentence I never thought would leave your mouth,” Jere shouts over the guests, allowing chuckles to filter through the crowd. Conrad takes them all well, smiling around the room warmly as you try not to blush even more, sat beside his tall frame. 

 “I’ve learnt so much from Belly and Jere,” Conrad starts again, taking his time over every word. “I learnt the responsibility of being an older brother, of being there for Jeremiah growing up. I learnt how to love, when Belly first entered our lives when we were small, and well beyond that,” 

 Belly shoots him a knowing look, squeezing Jere’s hand affectionately. It’s no secret that Conrad and Belly had a fling, but addressing it in front of a room full of people is one of the bravest things you’ve ever seen Conrad do. He takes it well, smiling at her with the most genuine smile you could fathom from the oldest Fisher boy. 

 Even Jeremiah cracks a sullen smile, and you can tell that it’s all behind them. They’re here now, like this, grown after years of fumbling through life without a clue. 

 “I wouldn’t be the person I am today without them. Without summers here, getting older each year and fumbling through our many—many—mistakes, I wouldn’t be stood here before this newly married, beautiful couple,” he speaks from the soul, before dipping his stare down to you. Conrad gently rests his hand on your shoulder, to which you place your own over his immediately. “I wouldn’t be able to say that I have the heart that I do without them, and others that I grew up with, within this house,” he speaks solely to you. You clutch onto every word, feeling the pulse pumping through his body through his fingers, swiping your thumb over his knuckles just like he does to you. 

 “So, this is a thank you,” he says finally, sending a gleaming smile back to the top table. “Thank you, Belly and Jeremiah, for letting me grow and make mistakes—for helping me be the person I am today,” 

 You want to kiss him before you can even process his words. You want to stand abruptly and wrap your arms around him, hold him, feel his heartbeat beneath his chest so profoundly, but you can’t manage to make your legs move. 

 Your muscles are stuck, your stare is frozen; directly on him; with his hazel eyes and clenched jaw and overdue-a-haircut strands of hair that litter his forehead. 

 He squeezes your shoulder then, bringing you back to earth. “You okay?” he whispers, only to you, and all you can do is nod. Nod and mean it. 

 “So, if you could all stand with me,” he says strongly, and chairs begin scratching and scuffing the floor without fail. “To Belly and Jere. Helpers of growth. Lovers from their childhood years. To family,” 

 You stand gently, and Conrad’s hand repositions itself onto your waist snuggly. You raise your glass, along with every other person in the beach house. 

 “To family,” you all toast.

 The clink of glasses is hardly heard, as Conrad pulls you into himself. He holds you strongly, softly, in all manner of ways that you’ll never be able to fully comprehend because it’s him. The boy you grew up with was more of a man than you could ever have predicted. 

 And maybe he was yours. 

 Countless drinks and too much laughter later, you find yourself out on the patio, enjoying the sunset as it peaks over the horizon. The pool is covered by a glittering dance floor. The tiles flash different colours and a live band is set up at the far end, playing covers of well-known tunes for the guest to enjoy. 

 Conrad brings you glasses of champagne without you asking. He’s just always there, sending you small smiles as he takes your empty glasses and then, seconds later, hands you a completely fresh one. 

 Tied at the hip are you and the eldest Fisher boy, but no one is surprised. When you’re not involved in shared conversations with other guests, you’re stood or sat at the side lines of the dancefloor, retelling stories or talking absolute bullshit, laughing through the obvious want that both of you have—

 To be alone. To watch the sunset on the beach. To duck under the covers and hold each other again while you fall asleep. 

 With the last of the sunset, the band stops playing. Steven takes the microphone, tapping it a few times to get everyone’s attention. 

 “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll all please join the bride and groom in celebrating their first dance...” 

 You shoot up from the floor, using Conrad as leverage excitedly. He lets out a scoff from the blow, but grabs your arm and uses the momentum to hoist himself up. You all but fling him forward, too overexcited to wait for him as the two of you make your way to the dance floor, arm in arm, shoulders always touching. 

 Belly and Jere take the floor, making it their own. Immediately, you feel tears behind your eyes. 

 “Don’t cry now,” Conrad whispers, settling his hand on your waist as if it was something he did every day. “We haven’t danced yet,” 

 You elbow him gently. “I can’t help it. I’m a sucker for a Waltz,” you reply, leaning your head back into his chest to look him in the eye. Without a word, he drops a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

 “Idiot,” is all he says. 

 You know that means you’re cute in Conrad language. 

 Belly and Jere join hands as the band begin playing, and the song that starts is one that punches you in the jaw. You knew Belly like the back of your hand, knew that she’d never allow herself to get married without having this one thing—

 Lover by Taylor Swift fills the patio sweetly; a timeless Waltz, the kind that you dance to at your fucking wedding. 

 How long have you been sitting on this one, Bells?

 They dance together in time, stopping and starting along with the waves against the shore, as everyone looks on in awe. Your heart swells—the swish of Belly’s dress, the smile on Jere’s face whenever he cradles her in a lean, the way they fit together like a goddamn glove. 

 Laurel and Cleveland hold hands strongly, watching every movement. Mr Conklin wipes a stray tear from his eye. Adam stands with his hands in his pockets, awkwardly, but with an upturned smile on his face, nonetheless. Shayla holds Steven close, as his hand grips the microphone for dear life. 

 You’d always thought first dances would be awkward—a whole group of people staring you dancing, taking in every step and analysing every move, but it wasn’t like that at all. All you and everyone here felt was pure, unfiltered love for the two people before you. 

 All you felt was a weight lifted off your shoulders, a warmth in your chest, and Conrad’s fingers wrapped around your waist; where they belonged. 

 Everyone applauds as Belly and Jere reach the bridge of the song. That’s when Steven steps forward once more. “Now, everyone feel free to take the floor with the happy couple,” he says sweetly, before almost catapulting the microphone out of his grip. 

 Immediately, he grabs Shayla by the hand, dragging her onto the light up floor. Laurel lets out an abrupt cheer as they take a spot next to Belly and Jere, starting to Waltz as the last minute of the song plays softly.

 Conrad squeezes you suddenly, alerting you to his gaze. You peer up at him, just as he removes himself from your grasp. Gently, he sticks out his hand to you in a small bow. Your cheeks gain colour instantly, your heart beating pitter patters around your chest. 

 “May I have this dance?”

 Gently, you drop your hand into his. “Yes,” you let out, croaking over the words in a way that only shows how comfortable you are. In fact, you’d never wanted anything more than to dance with Conrad Fisher. 

 He walks to you to the dance floor, waiting for you to step up onto the light up flooring before he follows suit. You let out a giggle when he tugs you into his chest, your other hand resting upon his shoulder while his finds your waist once more. 

 Laurel cheers once more, while Cleveland lets out a large wolf whistle next to her. You smile at them, utterly beaming, before yourself and Conrad start to Waltz in time to the music. No other duos take the floor right now, opting to stay on the side lines and watch the blissful scene. 

 It’s only fitting that you’re all here; Cousins summer children; all grown up; dancing in duos and smiling incessantly at each other as you pass on the dance floor. 

 Conrad twirls you around like a princess effortlessly, and it’s both the most exposed and the safest you’ve ever felt. In his arms, out in the open, projecting to the fucking skies that this is a thing—that you’re his and he’s yours. 

 Two days ago, this was out of the equation. Still riding the coattails of your hurt feelings, the conflict from Susannah’s funeral, the years of zero contact when you’d thought your chance of ever being back here was nil—and now this. 

 Full circle. Back in Cousins where you belonged. With the four people who know you best in this messed up world. 

 You don’t think of the consequences, of the inevitable. 

 Can I go where you go?

 The fact that this summer won’t last forever. The fact that your life is elsewhere, far away from the places that Conrad calls his own. The fact that the days in his arms are numbered. 

 Can we always be this close?

 You only think of how he feels beneath your chest, how his heart pumps blood around his body, how his eyes seem to sparkle more when you walk into a room. You only think of what could happen tonight, beneath the sheets in his bedroom with their baby blue walls and sailing trophies. 

 You’re my lover.

 When the song ends, Conrad leans you into a dip. You chuckle nervously, but tilt your head back and smile, nevertheless. He holds you easily, whipping you back up to standing effortlessly, before clutching you to his chest in a hug. Guests let out mass cheers, their applause filling the patio warmly. 

 Belly curtsies, Jere bows, Steven dabs, Shayla groans—but Conrad doesn’t let you go. He laps up the happiness within the space, relishing in the fact he’d done it; danced with a pretty girl; danced with you. 

 Jere grabs the microphone from the band stand, stepping to the middle of the dance floor. “Let them eat cake!”

 The rest of the evening in a blur of booze, cake and happiness. It seeps through your bones relentlessly, only increasing in strength whenever Conrad brushes his shoulder against yours, or drapes his fingers over your knuckles while sat down. 

 As guests start to trickle out around midnight, the five of you head to the beach. 

 It feels oddly poetic; sitting on the beach past midnight; drinking champagne straight from the bottle; ties and shoes thrown across the sand haphazardly. All together, all grown, but all the same people you’d ever been—

 Young. Stupid. Full of too much love for any of you to bear, but still you persist. 

 Steven takes a large glug of champagne as all of you look out towards the calm sea. “I don’t know why, but this feels like the start of the next stage of all of our lives,” 

 Everyone nods, humming in agreement; apart from you. 

 Your grimace appears, thick and fast, before you can stop it. Of course, Conrad sees. You could feel his stare on you from a mile away. 

 You grab the bottle from Steven’s lap, taking two large gulps. You would down the whole thing if you could, if it meant the pit in your stomach that had just opened would disappear. Instead, it simply gets bigger, as the fact of life dawns on you. 

 “It does, doesn’t it?” Belly chimes in, leaning back into Jere’s lap. “Jere and I are moving to Boston, Shayla’s moving in with you,”

 The absence of yours and Conrad’s names is immediately felt. Jere sends a knowing look your way, but you ignore him as well, opting to take another gulp of champagne. Before you can chug the whole thing, Conrad takes it from your grasp. 

 “I’m moving into the beach house,” Conrad says suddenly, and the breath hitches in your throat. Belly and Jere jump out of their skin, and Steven’s face lights up. 

 “What? Since when?” Steven erupts. 

 “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Conrad continues. “I told Jere about it at the stag do,” he says, before sending Belly an amused smile. She’s got guilt written all over her face. “I know that you know, Bells. Jere told me he spilled,”

 Belly winks at him playfully. “And I told—,”

 “Me,” you interrupt. “She told me,” you don’t sound pleased. You don’t know why. 

 “So, I was the only one that didn’t know?” Steven goes on, thankfully covering up your suddenly soured mood. “That’s fucking mean,”

 “Well—you know now,” Conrad says, shooting a smile at him. 

 “I’m glad you are,” Jere speaks up. “It fits you, you know? You work in this beach house, Connie. It’s what Mom would have wanted,”

 Conrad smiles to himself. “Yeah,” he whispers. 

 It goes silent for a minute, as the five of you watch the waves roll gently onto the beach, cropping up shells in the dim light. Even in the dark, the ocean shines, glittering in the subtle moon rays. 

 “What about you?” Steven asks softly, turning to you expectantly. “What will you do when you get home?” 

 Home. 

 You heart stutters sadly in your chest. “I don’t know,” you let out. “I finished my masters. I work a dead-end bar job. I live in a tiny, grotty one-bed in South London,” you only realise how depressing you sound after the words leave your mouth. “The world is my fucking oyster, obviously,” you add, trying to lighten the mood, but all it does is dampen it further. 

 You grab the bottle from Conrad quickly, drowning away your words with lukewarm champagne in an attempt to erase them from existence. 

 You can feel the question burning a hole through Conrad’s chest before he even says it out loud. “You could move here, with me,” 

 He finally said it. He finally asked the fucking question. 

 Ever since that morning, outside the small cottage, you knew Conrad wanted you to move in with him. You’d been waiting for him to ask properly, waiting for the words to drop from his mouth so you could say yes, but now that they finally had—

 It wasn’t that easy to respond. 

 It sounded easy on paper; move to Cousins; live with Conrad; be happy. 

 But it wasn’t.

 “Please,” you let out smally, despite the mood being uplifted intensely. “We’d kill each other,” you’re smiling, despite feeling on the spot. 

 “We haven’t killed each other yet, after all these years,” 

 “Because we hardly knew each other in our early twenties,” you joke, shooting him a smug smile. 

 “I call that a shame,” he jokes back, leaning into you playfully. 

 The silence creeps up again, only for a few seconds, before it’s broken once more. 

 “You could move here,” Jere says. “Work visas are a thing, and when that runs out, you’d make a great housewife,” a chuckle sprouts from his lips, prompting you to whack him in the back of the head with your foot. 

 “I’m no one’s wife,” you let out strongly.  

 “You could be,” Conrad says as plain as day. 

 Immediately, four sets of eyes land on his face. Belly’s positively frozen, staring at the eldest Fisher brother with a face that you’d never seen on her soft frame. Jere’s looking at his brother with a subtle, upturned smile that only means one thing—you fucking didn’t. Steven’s got his mouth dropped open so wide that he’s almost dribbling like a baby. 

 You’re staring at Conrad, unable to hear and almost unable to fucking breathe, overcome with the pumping of blood in your ears and the buzzing in your fingertips that steadily grows up your arms. 

 Conrad stares at the ground, before slowly looking up and meeting your eye. The smile on his face almost makes you crack into a thousand shards of yourself. 

 “You could be,” he says again, stronger this time, cementing that he’d fucking meant it. 

 “Shut the fuck up,” Steven blurts out, before smacking his hands over his mouth at his abruptness. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment, but he couldn’t stop the words from bursting out of his lips. 

 You regain consciousness enough to swallow away the dryness in your throat. “Are you being serious right now?” you let out, followed by the most nervous laugh you’ve ever fucking produced. 

 “Of course, he is,” Jere speaks for him. “Look at his fucking face,” 

 “I’ve never seen Conrad more serious about anything in my life,” Belly backs him up. 

 “Shut the fuck up!” Steven exclaims again, and Conrad lets out a sigh. Gently, he sends them all a stare. 

 “Can you three vacate the area for a moment?” 

 “What?” you let out now, as the three of them scramble off the sand in milliseconds. Belly almost trips over her dress, but Jere grabs her by the waist and hoists her upwards. Steven stands abruptly, stepping backwards all the way to the dock, eyes fixed on you and Conrad, until Jere smacks him in the ribs. 

 With the three of them gone, you suddenly realise that he’s not fucking joking. 

 You lean back slightly, trying to get a grip on reality while simultaneously trying not to melt from the way he’s looking at you. The bastard just fucking proposed to you. 

 “W-wait—Conrad, you’re not seriously— you can’t seriously—,” you stutter out, words trailing over each other, but his smile only widens. 

 “Why not?” is all he says. 

 You stand up immediately, wobbling down the beach as the insatiable urge to laugh your fucking head off rises up through your chest. Laughter bubbles out of your lips in bursts, so bad that you have to cover your mouth with your fingers to keep it contained. 

 You’re not laughing at him, god no, you’re laughing at this—a fucking proposal, out of the damn blue, and not as a fucking joke. 

 He meant it; oh god, he meant it—every single fucking word was etched all over his face. Maybe he’d blurted it out, but he’d fucking meant it. 

 “Are you fucking serious right now?” you yell back at him, hair flowing in the ocean breeze. He stands then, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking at you like you’re the goddamn sun. 

 “Dead,” he says, as plain as if he was ordering coffee in a café. “Marry me,”

 “Conrad Fisher!” you yell, coming full circle from your first day back in Cousins, but it’s flipped now. He’s up the beach, looking at you by the ocean. “Do you realise what you’re even saying?” you’re too overwhelmed and amazed that you can’t believe this. 

 “Sure do,” he says, slowly strolling towards you across the sand. 

 You let out a small yelp, doubling over to get some blood flow to your head. You know you look crazy; fuck, you feel crazy; and the way he’s so sure of himself and standing there like a fucking Greek god is only making you feel crazier. You peer up at him at an angle. 

 “Are you not freaking out right now? How are you not freaking the fuck out right now? You’ve just asked me to marry you,” you let out breathlessly, reaching out to steady yourself on the sand. Your fingertips dig into the ground, stabilising you, before you force yourself up to standing. 

 It only makes you dizzier. You let out an abrupt and swishy nope before bending yourself over again. 

 “Are you okay?” Conrad says, but this time his words are laced with amusement. 

 “Do I fucking look okay?” you yell at him, but it only makes him laugh. 

 “No,” he says plainly, enjoying your freak out a little too much. “I’d say you look quite distressed,” he says it like he’s ordering a fucking pizza.

 “Distressed?” you let out, and your voice cracks horribly. “Yes, I’m fucking distressed,” 

 He lets you breathe it out for a minute, trying not to let out giggles as you balance yourself with one hand, body doubled over, hair all over the fucking place. You focus on calming your breathing, standing up to full gently, instead of whipping yourself up. 

 When you finally gain your balance, you blow the hair out of your face. You straighten your skirt and top, breathing heavily and huffing like you’ve just walked up all seven hundred steps of the Eiffel Tower. 

 A thought pops into your head then, one that’s impossible to bite back. You meet his amused, pretty boy face that both pisses you off to oblivion and makes you incapably happy. 

 “What happens if I say yes?” 

 “We get married,” he blurts out. “Have you never done this before?”

 “What—and you have?” 

 “No, but it’s a pretty straightforward transaction—,”

 “Straightforward transaction, my ass,” you let out. 

 Somehow, this all feels right. This pointless back and forth. The impossibility of Conrad being too stubborn to take back an impulsive proposal and you being too stubborn to ever believe it. This feels so fucking right that you can’t stand it. 

 Slowly, Conrad strolls closer to you. You freeze on the spot, staring at him as he walks down the beach to meet you. It’s only dawning on you now that he truly means it, that Conrad Fisher just randomly proposed to you and asked you to move across the world for him. 

 Little did he know, you already knew your answer. 

 Maybe it was written all over your face, as your disbelief turns into overwhelming emotion, the closer he gets. Your wide eyes grow small as your mouth upturns into a happy smile. Paired with the welling tears in your eyes, you can’t believe what you say immediately, as soon as he’s parallel to you. 

 “You’re not lying, are you?” you triple, quadruple check. He lets out a short huff, looking at you so fondly that you can hardly fathom it. 

 “Not one bit,” he says softly, so soft that his words are almost lapped up by the ocean. “Move here with me. Marry me one day,” 

 “One day?” you ask gently. 

 “When it works. When everything’s sorted,” he says clearly, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. “I don’t mind waiting if it’s for you,”

 You don’t know what else to do than to laugh as tears cascade down your face. You splutter once, almost snorting. “God—I love you,” you burst out, chest bobbing up and down with heaving breaths, mixed with unstoppable chuckles. 

 Conrad chuckles once, eyes shining, before he grabs your face immediately and plants a kiss upon your lips. You grab his face back, curling your fingers around the back of his neck as you both sway in the Cousins moonlight. 

 He pulls away slightly, just to suck in a breath and let out a small chuckle. “For the record,” he croaks. “I fell in love with you first,” 

 “Shut the fuck up,” you say reflexively, before plunging your mouth on his to shut him up. 

 Your fingers lose feeling from how much you touch him. Your skin doesn’t feel real when it’s met with his own. Your lips start to go numb from how much you’re encased in him, but you don’t fucking care. 

 Who knew that after five years being away from Cousins, you’d return just to never leave again? 

 All because of him and his impulsiveness, his stubbornness, his heart so full of love that it’s bursting at the seams whenever he sees you. 

 Cravings rise to the surface before you’re halfway up the stairs, but as soon as he shuts his door you know you’re done for. This has been a long time coming, you and he both know. Skin on skin, lips on lips, so encased in each other that you forget to breathe. 

 When Conrad pulls off your clothes, you’re giddy beyond belief. A ticklish feeling overwhelms you as silk glides over your hips, as he tugs off your skirt. Your cheeks flush violently when he pulls the top over your head, immediately planting his lips upon yours once he’s removed it and thrown it across the room. 

 You relish in the pop of undoing the buttons on his suit, gliding your hands over his bare chest as he drags his arms out of the sleeves. He’s restless and impatient, tossing clothes over his shoulder without a care so he can staple his lips on yours; your neck; your collar bones; your clavicle. 

 Conrad Fisher naked is like nothing you’d ever imagined. His skin is soft and the goosebumps that sprout from him are to die for. All of him tastes like the sea, every curve and line and part of him that only you get to see. 

 Conrad roams you gently, savouring every nip and peck and mark that he leaves upon the places that no one else can see of you. “Mine,” he whispers with each touch, gently gliding down until he can slot his fingers beneath the lace waistband of your panties. 

 There’s a momentum, a rhythm, to him. Like a symphony you’d never heard until he was on top of you, making you feel so good that you don’t know how to act. Love seeps from his pores, drizzling over you like fresh honey and sticking to every portion of your bare skin. 

 Oh, you’d thought about fucking Conrad Fisher before, sure. You’d thought about how you’d make him feel good and how he’d make you tick back. You’d thought about what he’d look like between your legs, what he’d feel like—but your imagination wasn’t half as good as the real thing. 

 His tongue is like nothing you could expect, encasing your pussy softly and trickling over your aching clit again and again and again until you feel your gut drop. You flinch and stutter and grab at his hair, letting out gentle moans and begging him not to stop as you get close to coming undone completely. 

 Fingernails dig into your thighs hungrily, hard enough that you know you’ll be dotted with small bruises tomorrow, but you can’t wait to see them litter your skin during the sunrise. You let out an abrupt yelp in response to his tongue gliding over you once more, to which he responds with a gentle chuckle. 

 He raises his head gently, so you can feel his breath on your pussy. “Want me to stop?” he whispers, teasing you cruelly. 

 “Fuck you,” you let out breathlessly, sprawled over his pillow, so close to breaking that you can’t think of anything else to say. You grapple at his hair, trying to communicate to him that he needs to keep going—you’re so close; you’re so close that you might die. 

 “That’s not nice,” he lets out sensually, and his voice alone makes you ache. He rises slowly, and you let out an inescapable groan of frustration. Peering down at you, he plants a kiss upon your moaning lips. “Want me to stop?” he repeats, and you’re so overstimulated that you can’t say coherent words. 

 You wobble your head from side to side on his pillow, using the last of your core energy to wrap your legs around his torso in an attempt to pull him back down between your legs. 

 “Is that a no, baby?” he asks patronisingly, and you’re melting at the way he talks. The croak of his voice, the huskiness, the fact that his mouth has tasted you down there—it’s too fucking much. 

 “Please,” is all you can say.

 He moves like lightning. As soon as his mouth latches onto your pussy again, you fall apart. You suck in a deep breath, holding it in your lungs as the feeling in your gut expands to your entire body. Clamping your hand over your mouth, you let out a colossal groan of pleasure as your muscles contract and expand relentlessly. 

 Conrad stays between your legs, eyes stuck on your face, watching your eyes flutter closed as you come into his mouth. He’s ultra-soft now with his movements, staying away from your clit as you ride your orgasm to its very end. 

 He wastes no more time. The seconds on the ticking clock of you finally fucking have come to an abrupt and welcome end after so long—and he can barely stand it anymore. 

 Rising himself up on the mattress, Conrad sticks his arm backwards quickly and opens the top drawer of his desk. Skilfully, he picks out the first condom he can find, sticking it between his teeth and ripping it open immediately. 

 You watch every movement, still riding this inescapable and overcoming feeling that’s drenched itself over your entire body; love; a want; a need; to feel him in every way imaginable. 

 Your hands plant themselves on his thighs as he tugs on the condom quickly, repositioning himself to peer down at you once more, pushing your legs back up into your chest. His face is so close, hair flopped down so it’s tickling your forehead, and yet he still halts. 

 It pains him to do so, but the look in his eyes is full of this drunken seriousness that you don’t fully know how to compute. “Is this okay?” he asks, despite already knowing the answer. 

 An overwhelmed and happy smile plants itself on your face as your cheeks turn even more vibrant. “Always will be,” you reply simply. Conrad immediately dips his lips onto yours, inhaling through his nose to breathe you in fully. 

 As he does, he slips into you slowly; gently, easily, as you share subtle gasps of pleasure between mouths. He raises his stare to the wall, fluttering his eyes close as his body stutters. “Fuck,” he whispers. 

 “Fuck,” you whisper back, both encased in your own worlds of pleasure that are slowly melding together, alongside every push of Conrad’s cock inside you. He starts slow, getting used to you, this feeling, this utter encasement of pleasure and emotion and everything in between.

 You can tell he’s stalling with every agonising yet gentle thrust. He’s being slow, being gentle, on purpose. He’s biding his time, roaming his hands over every inch of you, relishing in the way he feels inside you—before the inevitable. 

 He doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want to stop—but he knows he will if he’s goes too fast. 

 “Conrad,” you let out breathlessly, placing a soft hand on his cheek. He slows his movements even further, letting out another huff of hot air mixed with a moan in the back of his throat. “You’re torturing yourself,” you whisper. 

 “I don’t—want this to end,” he stutters, dropping his forehead to yours tiredly. You shut your eyes, swiping your thumb gently across his cheek. 

 “This is just the first time,” you whisper sensually, allowing your other hand to roam his back, trickling your fingernails over his bare skin. You can feel him shiver. “We have all the time in the world to do this as many times as we want,”

 “As much as we physically can?” he lets out, pulling away and shooting you with the widest and biggest eyes you’d ever fucking seen. He’s begging you right now, out in the open, while forcing himself not to come. 

 You gulp down the insatiable urge to start bucking your hips into him, just to see that face change in an instant. 

 You kiss him softly, lingering your lips over his as you let out “As many times as we want,” slowly. You ache over every word, overpronouncing the syllables to communicate just how much you want to have days where all you and Conrad do is lie in bed and fuck. 

 He stops for a few seconds as the cogs in his brain overload. The inner circuit of his head has just been fried; all the blood has been directed to between his legs. His heartrate accelerates atop you, sending subtle jolts through your own body. 

 Gently, you grab the other side of his face. “Fuck me, Conrad,” 

 You don’t need to tell him twice, as his chest starts heaving and his hips start thrusting—properly. With every jolt, you’re slammed against the pillows of his bed. With every stab, a wave of pleasure rides up the entire length of your body. 

 His hands stay glued on you at all times, cupping your breasts, digging into your thighs, holding your cheek. The stark contrast between him railing you but looking at you like the fucking sun makes you want to scream to the heavens—he’s perfect in every single way. 

 Sweat dots his brow as he stays in a rhythm, but his breathing becomes more erratic with every thrust of his cock into your pussy. You let out involuntary moans and squeals, covering your mouth with your fingers and scrunching up his sheets with your other hand. 

 “Fffffucking—you, you’re so fucking—,” he lets out in bursts, not knowing where to find the right words or how to even say them when he’s like this. There’s too much of you to discover in such a short amount of him. There’s too much to experience. 

 Alongside a moan, he quickly grabs your wrist, tugging it away from your mouth. “Don’t you dare,” he growls breathlessly. “I want to hear every noise you make,”

 “I’m—,” a gulp. “I think I’m going to come again,” you let out abruptly, tripping over your whispered words as you try to compute what the fuck to feel. You feel everything and nothing all at once, as your muscles start to tense intensely. When you tense your leg muscles, Conrad’s breath hitches in the back of his throat. 

 “Fuck,” he lets out quickly, feeling all of you. “Come for me,” he urges, and you can see the expression on his face change through the double vision that litters your eyes. “I’m—,” he tries again, but the words simply won’t come out. 

 “Come with me,” you manage to say, as Conrad leans down to your chest. There’s nothing keeping you apart as you release together. 

 As soon as Conrad sees your eyes widen and feels your core tense, he comes undone without question. His body stutters and starts like a typewriter, while yours crumples underneath him like a piece of parchment. He flops onto you fully, resting his entire bodyweight on your frame. 

 All you feel is him—on your chest, in your heart, between your legs. 

 His heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s, pounding into your own until they match pace. He breathes deeply on top of you, swallowing every few seconds and then letting out a pent-up huff of air as he calms himself down. 

 Seeing him like this is something you happily indulge in. Gently, you tug your fingers through his tangled hair, trickling your fingers over the lines of his jaw and cheekbones, eyebrows and nose.

 Fucking Conrad Fisher had never felt so sweet. 

 But after it?

 You’d never felt more in love. 

 You don’t remember falling asleep, but you remember waking up. 

 “Conrad!” Steven’s pelting on Conrad’s door when the sun is up outside. “Belly and Jere are about to leave, dipshit. Wake the fuck up!” 

 You gasp as you get up first, almost elbowing Conrad in the head as you realise what’s happening. Steven keeps pounding on the door as you both lie in bed, butt fucking naked, still flushed from the activities you performed just hours before—

 You smack Conrad immediately, shaking him until his droopy eyes open. Get up get up get up. One look at his half-asleep face and he knows immediately what’s happening. As you fling yourself out of bed and start rummaging the floor for clothes, he stirs on the mattress and thinks on his feet. 

 “We—I’ll—be two minutes!” he yells back to Steven, who finally stops bashing down the door. You start throwing clothes onto the bed, almost tripping as you pull on your panties and frantically search for your bra. 

 Getting dressed isn’t easy for you, but Conrad easily pulls open his drawers and rummages through clothes. He tugs on the first t-shirt he sees, slipping on a pair of shorts with ease. You look up at him as you’re bent over, clutching your bridesmaid dress in both hands. 

 “I can’t wear this,” you whisper frantically. 

 “Why not?” he asks quickly. 

 “Because they’ll know,” you splutter. 

 “They already know. I fucking asked you to marry me last night,” you know he has a point, but you’re in no position to listen. 

 “Just— throw me some clothes,” you urge, and he lets out an abrupt scoff. 

 “That’s not any better, you know,” he says knowingly, but nevertheless he turns back around and searches his drawers once more. 

 You stand and wait for him, clutching your boobs for emotional support. Your bra is nowhere to be fucking found. Brilliant. 

 “Here,” he says after a few seconds, coming towards you with another pair of pyjama shorts and a Cousins Sailing Club tee. You roll your eyes at him impulsively, but the small smile that sprouts onto your face is your tell, as you slip on his clothes. 

 His clothes. You’re wearing Conrad Fisher’s clothes. 

 Something so trivial sounds so stupid when he was literally inside you last night, but you don’t give a fuck. You’ve got an after-sex glow, a spring in your step, your heart in your throat—sure, but at least you had him. 

 “Okay,” you breathe out, trying to calm yourself down and pat down your bedhead. “This is fine. This is fine,” 

 “Mhm,” Conrad hums before you, looking you over with bedroom eyes that make your gut drop. You suck in a breath, tilting your head at him. 

 “No,” you tell him off. “Later,” you add, and his smile encases his entire face. 

 “Deal,” he says happily, before the two of you finally drag yourselves downstairs. 

 You almost fall down the stairs, but Conrad hooks his arm around your waist before you can drop. The two of you bound off the last step, pitter pattering your feet across the porch and jumping out of the front door and into the sunshine. 

 Belly and Steven are hugging already, talking in small whispers as Jere finishes packing the car. He drops the final bag into the trunk and shuts the boot, turning back to the house. When he does, his eyes immediately land on you and Conrad—

 He smiles. Knowingly. 

 “Look who decided to show up, huh?” he exclaims slyly, making sure his voice is loud enough for Belly and Steven to hear. Suddenly, the three of them are all looking at you. It’s far too late to pretend to still be asleep now, isn’t it?

 “Couldn’t miss sending you guys off,” Conrad lets out, and you’re thankful he’s the one who’s spoken up. Words form in your head, but your mouth can’t fucking move just yet—not while your cheeks are a thousand degrees and growing more vibrant by the damn second. 

 Jere strolls forward and Conrad steps out further to meet him. The Fisher brothers smile at each other for a few seconds, before encasing each other in a hug of epic proportions. You stay by the door, arms crossed over your chest in an attempt to cover up Conrad’s shirt, but that’s when you suddenly don’t care. 

 No one here cares. No one here is judging you. If anything, they’re thrilled. 

 Belly walks over to you with Steven, a gleaming smile on her fresh face. You melt immediately, letting out an oh, God as you rush forward and wrap your arms around her. You stroke her head, holding her tightly in your embrace. 

 “Have the best time,” you whisper. 

 “We will,” she confirms, before tugging herself away gently. “You too,” she adds at the end, shooting you a perked brow and smug smile. 

 “Alright, alright,” you cave, not even trying to hide your smile. “Enough of that,” 

 “I want details,” she says suddenly. “Text me immediately,” 

 “That’s a breach of privacy,” Conrad speaks up quickly, coming to stand next to you. Gently, he drapes his arm over your shoulders, dropping a peck onto the top of your head. You don’t push him away. You hold on to this moment, realising that this is the new normal. 

 The new normal that you’re fucking ecstatic about. 

 “It’s girl talk. It doesn’t concern you,” Belly hits back playfully.

 “It’s no different than Jeremiah spilling everything about the honeymoon to you two,” you argued, and the two in question were Steven and Conrad. Steven immediately raises his hands. 

 “How did I get involved in this?” 

 The five of you fight playfully for the next few minutes, relishing in the morning sunshine and the realisation that things are different now. Jere and Belly are finally married, off on their honeymoon. Steven and Shayla are moving in together at the end of summer, starting their lives together fully. You and Conrad—

 Well, what the fuck was happening there? 

 Other than the abrupt marriage proposal and the sex you had last night (and will have again, as soon as Belly and Jere left), nothing was out of the ordinary in the slightest, obviously. 

 Not the declarations of love or the fact you were already planning your move to Cousins in your head. Nothing whatsoever. Nothing strange. Nothing new or exciting or right. 

 Not his hands always finding a way to be on you, or his lingering stare. Not the way he grabbed your waist when Belly and Jere drove away, off on their month-long honeymoon. Not the way he planted another peck on your head as soon as he got the chance. 

 Conrad fucking Fisher.

 “So,” he says sleepily, eyes roaming you up and down later that evening, after a full-on day of fucking, eating and watching films. “When are you moving in?” 

 “Hm,” you let out softly, trailing your fingers over his collar bones. “How about right now?”

 His eyes widen happily. “Really?” he asks, and the excitement in his voice almost kills you. 

 “Why not? I’m already here. I can sort movers and paperwork and everything from here, probably,” 

 “You’re so... calm,” he lets out. 

 “I’m just—being spontaneous,” you reply. Conrad snorts immediately. 

 “You’re the least spontaneous person in the fucking world,” he says without any filter. You shove him gently, sending him a disapproving smile. 

 “Well, I’m trying it out,” you say smally.

 Conrad is silent for a few seconds, eyes trailing your skin with the signature look that tells you he thinks you’re golden. 

 “You just want to keep fucking, don’t you?”

 God, you love him. 

 “Maybe,” you reply, and he laughs. 

 You’ll never get over that fucking, pretty boy laugh. Not for the rest of your life. Not after every joke or comedy movie marathon or tease. You’ll never get over him, actually. With his knowing looks and soft skin but calloused hands, worn by rigging from sailing. 

 You’ll never get over Conrad fucking Fisher. 

 Not now. Not in ten years—

 Now that you were his. 

 And he was yours. 

-----------

A/N: it’s not an orgasm... it’s an OURgasm...

Tag list: @browneyes-issac @cjansw234  @mightiestheroes @slxt4myselfxd @m3laniehearts @advicefromnixxxx @planttett @ready-hit-it @lonelywitchv2​ @conradswifee​ @sunnystarkey​ @jjordansblog @mizxkii @paigemillz @queen-bee98 @parker-natasha​ @urangel000​ @conradstan​ @i-padfootblack-things​ @cognacdelights​ @cowboycarlshat​ @softsakusas​ @mindflay3r​ @gudboytae​ @xoxohannahlee​ @h1storicbabe​ @pootmillz @iovevyn @grxcisxhy-wp​ @imjustboredso​ @zofireads @lokis-girl03​

#conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher x reader #x reader #reader insert #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #lightyaers #fanfiction #ff #writeblr #wattpad #ao3 #archive of our own #jenny han #belly conklin #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher x belly conklin #conrad fisher #smut and angst #angst and fluff

[kaybreezy3000]

The Devil Within

A Five Hargreeve / Reader insert

Five Hargreeves has not lived an easy life and no matter where he ends up, things never seem to get much better for him.

Stuck inside a body that's his but not, Five is having a hard time moving on, but sometimes all it takes to totally flip a person's view of things is one very special dark and mysterious night.

-note: female OC will remain unnamed and mostly non-descript to give this one a sort of reader insert-ish vibe.

Warnings and extra tags: sexually explicit content, mind games, a little bit of Klaus and Dolores in this one, dubious consent, violent behavior, rough sexual behavior, Dominance and Submission, dirty talking Five, daddy kink, biting, blood, mild body dysmorphia, public sex, Five has many lovey issues but he's still our sweet boy so hang tight-he's going to pull you through all sorts of emotions with this smutty story😏

(23,127 words 4 chapters total)

(Chapter 1 and 2 post)

Chapter One: Bad Boy; Good Man

It was October thirty-first. Just twenty-nine days after Five Hargreeves had the pleasure of turning what he’d estimated was the equivalent of the age of eighteen. He was stomping down a dark alleyway, hands jammed in his pockets, shoulders hunched, with his eyes staring blankly at the wet cement in front of him.

Like normal, Five wasn’t in a good mood, though there was no denying that he was doing much better than during the first October when he’d turned eighteen. 

That time, he’d been thin as a rail and freezing his ass off in an early apocalyptic winter. Huddling in his improvised shelter, he had tried to get as much comfort as he could by way of cuddling up to Dolores, but her painted plastic skin was as cold and unyielding as the air around him.  

All Five had wanted was to feel something good to help him through his pain, but he couldn’t even have that when faced with the grim reality around him, so he did the next best thing. 

He let go and lost his mind, so he didn’t have to be alone. 

Almost right away when he’d found he couldn’t get back to his family, Five had found Dolores and he’d made her his companion. He started having two-sided conversations with her to keep himself from going insane, but it wasn’t until that sad night of his eighteenth birthday that Five started to feel Dolores’s warmth for the first time, and he did after that for the next fifty-three years.   

He did what he had to. He survived so he could get back.

He was sure that if he did, he could fix everything.

Turned out, he did make it home to his family but not until almost a lifetime later, and fixing things isn’t exactly what Five would call what he did. Fucking it up royal was a better way of summing up what he and his siblings did, both in their own original timeline, then again in the past when they were in Dallas, and then when they were trapped in a hell of their own making in the Sparrow’s timeline.

Now, in a new world made by Reginald, dumped with almost nothing and with no powers to help them, Five was feeling just about as desperate as he was when he was that lost little thirteen-year-old boy, alone in a burning world of death and ashes. Here he was stripped of all scars and even the tattoo he’d had since he was a child. Everything was normal; it was fixed.

But mentally he was far from fixed.

Having to move in with Klaus since he wasn’t old enough to rent on his own was Five’s best option considering he had no others, but it was a huge slap in the face for the fifty-eight-year-old, once infamous temporal assassin.

As much as Five was happy that they were alive and the world didn’t seem to be on the verge of falling apart, sometimes this new existence felt like just another punishment for all his many wrongs and this night was just another bad one that he'd rather not be having.

It was lightly misting out. As he walked along in the dark, Five’s chocolate-colored strands of hair were beading up with tiny drops of moisture. 

It was damp and cold and well past ten on Halloween night, so of course that’s the night Five was forced out of his own apartment unless he wanted to continue to listen to his brother’s latest boy toy loudly moaning and groaning to the rhythm of Klaus’s headboard banging into the wall that divided their bedrooms.  

As Five trudged along, dead set on finding the closest bar to drown his sorrows in, he unexpectedly heard what he thought was someone crying for help.

He looked down the alley to his right just in time to see a huge man dressed like a gorilla raising his hand at a cowering female that he’d backed up against the wall of the building.

Five watched as he dropped his furry black mask on the ground and pressed himself against the girl, crushing her with his body as he violently groped her. She closed her eyes, her mouth opening wide in a silent scream as she waited for the blow from the hand he'd raised, but luckily for her, the crack of knuckle to bone wasn’t attached to any sort of pain involving her.

When she opened her eyes, it was to a young stranger in a dark suit, standing between her and the man, his head turned to one side, forced there by the creep’s large fist.

“Get out of here!” Five yelled at her, his face turned downwards as he held a hand to it.

Then like a scene from a movie, he slowly righted his head, his green eyes flashing with anger.

“Is that all you got? Used to hitting little girls?” he seethed.

The man looked totally pissed that Five had just gotten in his way. He puffed up and retaliated by tackling him. With a good seventy pounds on the teen, he hit him like a freight train. The girl scrambled out of the way as they barreled toward her.

Five grunted as his back slammed into the building.

The guy’s fist came flying at Five’s face at about one hundred miles per hour. At the last second, he ducked, and the dipshit’s fist crashed into the brick. “Fuck!” Spit erupted from his mouth just as blood erupted from his knuckles.

While he shook his hand out, Five spun from his grasp, grabbing the man’s free arm, hitching it high behind his back. The man launched his head backward, hitting Five on the top of the head but not as hard as he would have liked being Five was shorter than him.

Releasing the girl’s attacker, Five staggered back, his eyes unfocused but still managing to see a blunt object laying a few yards away.

Sprinting for it, Five picked up the pipe, swinging it upwards just as the guy was about to throttle him from behind.

The ring of metal to skull stopped the girl’s assailant dead in his tracks. 

The big creep crumbled to the wet pavement.

With his blood boiling and his body filled with adrenaline fueled rage, Five turned and started to stalk away, moving right past her, still clutching the pipe in his shaking hand.

He didn’t say a word, and the girl just stood there as if in shock wth her glittery halo crooked in her hair and the white feathers of her angel costume fluttering in the slight breeze that was moving between the buildings.

She reached out and grabbed Five’s arm, but he kept going and because of that her hand slipped down the sleeve of his suit jacket until her fingers brushed across his palm.

Five was not at all expecting her to touch him, and he was not ready for it when she latched on to him, not letting go.

Wound up like he could explode, Five spun around, verbally lashing out on her. “I’d think you’d have run off by now." The girl said nothing, so he yelled at her. "Go. Home!”

Still, she said nothing.

Her eyes seared into him.

She had the strangest look on her face; one Five couldn’t interpret and didn’t get the chance to because suddenly he was filled with extreme disorientation.

All at once, it was as if he was looking back at himself in a mirror but doing so while standing just as he was in that dimly lit alleyway.

As if that wasn’t weird enough, the man looking back at him was the real him.

Five was old again.

His face was dull looking and tired, with soft wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and his hair was short and white, only peppered with dark shadows of what remained of his traumatic youth.

Five could even see his usual gray suit of choice and his favorite hat perched on top of his head, all paired perfectly with his neatly trimmed mustache bending with confusion as he tried to form the right words to express what he was feeling, but there was nothing that could explain it.

His mouth opened and closed a few times, looking like he was AJ Carmichael in his plastic baggie, gasping for air that was quickly running out.

"I... I-"

His stammering wasn't going to cut it, and he needed to get out of there, so Five yanked his hand back, the feel of his skin as cold as ice.

A few seconds later, stepping back onto the sidewalk on to the much brighter street, Five’s hand came up, rubbing his face, his trembling fingers lingering on his smooth upper lip.

He looked back the other way and saw the young girl dressed as an angel had disappeared. It was as if she took flight on her silly nylon coated wings, and poof, she was gone.

Weirder yet, the guy he’d just nailed on the head with the pipe was gone too.

A dizzying sensation ran through him. The damage caused by the gorilla man had left Five’s left eye starting to swell.

He needed ice and he needed to get out of there, but Five was stuck like he’d stepped in glue. He touched his fingers to the side of his face, grimacing when they brushed across the swollen socket.

Looking at the smudge of blood on his fingers that had gotten there from his split lip, Five’s mind spun. He couldn’t figure out what had just happened. Then, a rush of chilly air blowing out of the ominously dark alley swirled a tornado of leaves across the fresh spray of blood on his new dress shoes and the sight of that reminded him this wasn’t the best place to linger.

He’d just bashed a man’s skull in. That man was nowhere in sight, meaning Five hadn’t killed him, but still, he needed to go.

A couple dressed as ghosts passed by, the woman looking at Five worriedly and that helped snap him out of his bizarre state of confusion. Chalking up his moment of insanity back there to his concussed brain, Five took off again, grumbling to himself. “God, I fucking hate Halloween.”

A few blocks away and several minutes later, Five walked into a bar. Fortunately for him, since he was already sporting a nasty bruise around his left eye, most of the areas inside of the establishment were darker than it was outside. It was so dark that if not for the flicker of medieval-looking lanterns hanging about and all the strobing lights pulsing to the beat of the music, it would be nearly impossible to navigate his way through the crowd.

The place was packed with people in costumes, all crammed on the dance floor and areas around it. A couple of girls with hardly anything on were grinding on each other in raised cages, looking like some kind of goth version of beach barbies. Five gave them a dismissive glance as he made his way to the back.

This was not his idea of a good time, and it was not his preferred method of getting drunk but going home meant he’d have to deal with Klaus, so this was the next best option.

Away from the more aggressive chaos, Five sat down on a barstool that had just been vacated. Here he could see the action but not necessarily be an active part in it, and better yet, this is where the drinks were. 

Even before intervening to help the girl in the alley, Five needed something hard and strong to take the edge off, but since getting hit in the face by that girl's attacker, the urge to purge his woes had increased ten-fold.

“What the fuck was I thinking,” he said under his breath.

He asked it but the reality was, Five knew very well what he’d been thinking.

He had questionable ethics. Sure… But he also had a long history of being used and abused by others. When it came to defending people that were at a disadvantage and being taken down a bad road because of it, when Five saw that happening to that young girl, it reminded him of himself, and he had to step in to stop it.

It’s not like he hadn’t hurt people before, but not like that guy looked like he was going to hurt that girl. Five had killed plenty of women for no reason other than he was ordered to by his superiors at The Commission, but he had no choice. To Five, what it looked like that guy was trying to do once he knocked that girl out was truly sick. 

Five knew he was one of the bad guys, but he was better than that. At least that’s what he always tried to tell himself when it came to his propensity to overlook his many transgressions.

Just as Five’s mind was wandering back to his weird outer body experience in the alley, another young girl who shouldn’t be out on a night like this, sauntered past him, dressed as a naughty nurse.

The idea of asking her to bandage him up had Five pulling a smirk but instead of calling her over and trying to hit on her, he pulled his eyes off the tight uniform that was hardly covering her ass, he heavily sighed, then he stuffed a hand in his pant pocket and turned back to the bar.

On Halloween night, all women, young and old, got to play their slutty card with zero judgment and the men that were out got to enjoy the free show. The problem with that for Five was, he hardly felt he could do more than take advantage of the look but don't touch policy.

Even though they’d been in Reginald’s new world for over a year and upon arrival Five had been so thoughtfully given a slightly older looking body, he still looked at best the age of sixteen, hence his fuzzy math on figuring his current physical age somewhere around eighteen. When it came to pursuing relationships of the sexual kind that weren’t with inanimate objects, he was mentally closer to sixty, so add all that together and that made him the youngest old dirty perv out there, and even for him, that was a hard pill to swallow.

It’s not like he hadn’t tried to hit on women before while looking younger than this, but that never resulted in anything, and Five knew it wouldn’t. He was only doing it because he enjoyed getting a rise out of them. 

Hooking up was obviously one benefit of these kinds of places and nights like this when the tramps and vamps were abundant. If Five could get past his troublesome age hangups, he was physically legal now and he would definitely not be opposed to some meaningless sex that a one-night stand would provide him, but tonight, all he wanted to do was escape Klaus and escape life by way of good old-fashioned intoxication.

Eyes on the lit-up shelves of liquor behind the bar, Five called out his order to the man in front of him who had been giving him the side eye since he’d sat down. “Give me a shot of Jack and keep them coming.”

The bartender gave him a look. “Seriously?”

“I’m not joking," he curtly responded, then added, "You can really do me a favor and put it on ice if you really want to make it special. Then make the next one poured straight."

The tall man with black eyeliner and a mesh shirt that was draped in chains eyed Five up and down a few times, but despite his lack of ID and his beaten-up appearance, clearly the hundred-dollar bill he'd just laid down and his pricy looking tailored suit were enough to satisfy him that he was close enough to legal drinking age to be there.

“Don’t bleed all over my bar or puke on my floor, little man,” he warned before pouring Five his drink and his next shot, then setting them down in front of him.

Just as Five had drained his ice filled cup and placed the cool glass against his aching eye socket, he felt something skate across the top of his head and then a pair of hands travel up his back.

Reactively jerking his shoulders as his hand moved up to inspect his hair, Five turned to see a very pretty blonde smiling at him as she stood next to Klaus.

Five’s grumpy looking pout turned downright sour. 

“Great,” he groaned. “And here I thought you were staying home tonight.”

Holding what looked like their kitchen broom topped with tin foil to make it look like a shepherd’s hook, Klaus’s glittery blue painted lips spread from ear to ear. “Yeah, well… I changed my mind. It's Halloween and staying home on Halloween is for losers.” 

Klaus’s smile faltered the longer he looked at his younger-looking brother. 

“Did you get in a fight?”

Five’s fingers continued to feel around on his head, finally poking at the pointed horns Klaus had slipped into his ruffled mane. “Yes, I got in a fight and to answer your next question, I won. And to end this lovely conversation, you can take these back,” he said, starting to pull the devil headband off.

Klaus sprung forward, pushing the shimmering black horns back into place. “I can’t let you be the only one here who is not in costume,” he argued.

Swatting Klaus’s hand away, Five knocked back his next shot then dryly retorted, “I am in costume. I am a retired homicidal maniac.”

“I know you are, Fivey, and that is why you make the perfect little devil boy.”

That comment about his age and small stature only made Five feel even less friendly. Putting on an overly sweet smile, making himself look even more the part of the fiend who was dressed to kill in his fancy new psycho suit, he sniggered then said. “I left tonight to get away from you and your boyfriend, so do me a favor and please leave me alone. I am trying to get shit faced in this fine establishment just like the responsible adult I am, and I don’t give two shits about Halloween, and I never have.”

Klaus frowned. “Hey, man. Jake is not my boyfriend, he’s my fuck friend and he had to go to work, so I got bored,” he corrected.

“Whatever.”

“Not whatever…” Klaus defended. “Maybe I wouldn’t need to have people over all the time if you hung out with me more. It gets lonely there with you hiding out in your room, reading your nerdy stuff or playing hanky-panky, hide your wanky with Dolores.”

Five lowered his chin, glowering at his brother. “I only moved in with you because I had too. Since I am legally an adult now, I think our cohabitation arrangement has ceased to serve any valid purpose other than giving you someone to annoy.” 

Five perked up, his eyes widening as his head dropped to the side.

“Oh, and what I do in my bedroom is my business,” he hissed, “-and furthermore, by the sounds I heard coming from your bedroom, you are hardly lonely, so don’t give me that let’s go find the next big ball of string shit.” 

After chewing Klaus out, Five finally took in the full glory of what his brother was wearing. Totally blown away by the sight of it, his head cocked to the side even more, and he scrunched his face at him. 

“Klaus, what the hell are you supposed to be?”

Loving that Five seemed to forget that he was still wearing the devil’s horns he’d adorned him with, Klaus further distracted him by playfully bonking his shoulder with his shepherd’s hook.

Again, Five swatted him off, which was entirely Klaus’s intention to begin with, then totally disregarding Five’s increasing state of twitchy itchiness, he proudly twirled around in his frilly blue dress and even added little curtsy to top it off.

“I am Little Bo Peep. Isn’t it obvious?” he explained, his tone clear that his pretty ensemble should require no explanation.

Five’s bewildered expression melted back into his customary dry smirk. “Uh-huh…” he muttered just before he threw back his next round of Jack.

Even though Five had hardly bat an eye at Klaus’s friend, as he tried to turn back around to dismiss them, she proceeded to snake up to him, sliding a finger through one of his belt loops.

Five took one look down at her hand at his hip, then he narrowed his eyes at her. “Excuse me, Miss? Not sure you are aware, but you are invading my personal space.”

Not seeing the problem, the woman, dressed in a skintight catsuit, erupted in a bubble of laughter as she gave Five’s dress pants a little tug. 

“You are right, he is cute,” she said to Klaus before leaning closer to Five with the sting of alcohol on her breath hitting him so strongly it made his eyes burn enough that he had to blink the fumes away.

Despite how drunk she was and how aggravated he was getting, Five couldn’t help that his eyes flicked down to the mounds of her huge breasts spilling out of her velvety top. Momentarily unable to think of anything other than burying his face in her dirty pillows, his tongue slowly ran over his teeth and his mind went all sorts of naughty places.

With the hand he still had in his pocket nudging his dick into a position that would be less embarrassing for him if he inadvertently let his eyes linger any longer, Five looked back up again, his disinterest still evident in the hard line of his mouth as he posed the question, “Am I supposed to be happy that you think I am cute?”

Only after hearing that did Klaus’s friend look a little hurt, but that didn’t mean she removed her fingers from his pants or that she moved her body away from Five’s backside. 

“Klaus told me you might like a little company…” she dangled.  

“Did he?” Five mumbled, flagging the bartender for another.

As he set down Five's next shot, Five turned and requested a bottle of water as well.

About this time, seeing as Klaus was misinterpreting his slick plan to get Five laid as a done deal, the older looking Hargreeves started back peddling himself out into the crowd, easily disappearing in the lights and bodies moving to the electronic music thrumming through the bar.

Cat lady wiggled her butt, swishing her tail behind her provocatively. “What do you say, want to have some fun? I am really good company…”

“I am going to have to say no. I am all good on company, thank you,” Five returned, then picked up his next shot, flipping it back down the hatch as he shifted his weight forward on the bar stool to try to dislodge her hand from his waist.

Undeterred and obviously too drunk to read her own name let alone pick up on what Five was laying down, she squeezed in next to him, her thighs rubbing up on the side of his leg as her other hand fell in his lap, tickling down between his legs.

“I want you,” she purred.

“I am flattered but I am not interested, but lucky you, that guy over there probably is,” Five noted, tipping the shot glass dangling from his finger at the guy behind her that her cat tail endowed butt was ramming into.

“Awwww, but Klaus said you don’t get out much.” She tried to bat her eyes, but it came off more like she was having a stroke rather than sexy. “He told me this kind of thing is exactly what you need to work through all your demons.”

She rolled her body against Five.

Five straightened his back as he cleared his throat. “Darling, no amount of sex is going to exercise my demons and as much as I’d like to fuck you so hard that you won't be able to see straight for weeks, I have a meeting in the morning,” he effortlessly lied, trying to give her a gentler brush off.

To that, her face lit up excitedly. “It doesn’t have to take long. Klaus told me you are a virgin, so I am sure it won’t. If you want, I can suck you off in the ladies’ room, and later back at your place I can help relieve you of that other little virgin problem,” she dangled, her fingers getting even more frisky.

“As tempting as that sounds…” Five gently peeled her fingers from his pants. “Here,” he said, putting the bottle of water in her hands. “Drink this and go dance. I’ll catch up with you another night.”

“Are you sure?”

As warm and buzzed as Five was starting to feel thanks to the whiskey burning him from the inside out, his old voice of reason wouldn’t be deterred. 

This girl did not know who he really was or what he was capable of, and even considering her offer the tiny amount he was, was making him think it was time to go about ten minutes ago.

She was pretty. Young. Probably twenty-five or maybe a little older, she was lost perhaps, and insecure and very drunk. Five might be a fucked-up prick, but he wasn’t such an asshole that he going to shit on the kid’s feelings because he wasn’t into this. After all, maybe if it wasn’t Halloween, and maybe if she wasn’t doing this because of Klaus putting her up to it, and if she was someone older but not too old that it made it even weirder, Five would have said yes. Looking so young and lacking when it came to social graces, Five knew that he should be grateful for someone willing to look past all that. But…

“I am sure,” he calmly repeated, again ordering her to drink the water as he authoritatively pointed a finger towards the dance floor.

The girl looked smitten by his bossy behavior, but finally getting that Five meant business and not the business she was hoping for, she said, “Thank you. And...just so you know, I still think you are cute.” 

Then the kitty danced away on unsteady legs that Five was having a twinge of regret not having wrapped around him as he tried his best to fuck her pussy through the metal wall of one the bar's bathroom stalls.

Even though she was very inebriated and probably only did what she did because of his brother, the girl’s minority opinion of him had a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Holy shit did that girl have daddy issues,” he breathily mused.

Shaking his head and thinking about how much fun it would have been to be her ‘daddy’ for the night, Five paid his tab, then slipped past the dance floor, looking for signs of Klaus, but not seeing him.

He wondered where he’d ended up; whose bed he’d be landing in tonight, but really it didn’t matter so long as he didn’t bring back his conquest to their place because that would mean Five would have to sleep with ear plugs in and a pillow over his head all night.

As Five was midway to the door, he felt someone watching him. He stopped, cautiously surveying his surroundings.

He didn't see any threats but one of the dancers caught his eye. She was a hot little number. Slightly shorter than him, with soft looking hair and a white feathery skirt that covered her ass and not much more. 

Despite her attire, she was dancing alone and appeared perfectly content that way. Five couldn't see her face but her body language said it all. She was dancing for herself and no one else, and that made it damn sexy.

When she finally turned to face him, Five stopped breathing, his fists clenching at his sides as the flashing lights lit up her sparkly halo.

She was the angel girl from the alley, and she was dancing with her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her angelic looking face.

It made no sense after what had almost happened to her that she’d be there. 

In his periphery Five could see that two sleazy looking coyotes were circling her, trying to figure out how to slip in for the kill. As pissed as he was that she clearly hadn’t listened to him and gone home, he still wasn’t about to let them get to her before he took another bite out of her first.

He bolted through the crowd and slipped into the tiny empty space between her and one of the approaching stalkers, placing one hand on her shoulder. 

Her eyes flashed open and for a second and they seemed to glimmer with unnatural light, but Five quickly waved it off, assuming it was the glare from one of the laser lights flipping around.

“You’d think with what happened to you earlier, you’d prefer hanging out somewhere a little less dangerous? Like at home since it’s past your bedtime.”

“I could say the same to you,” she said, her smile as sassy as his words.

Five bit down his ire and gave her an overly sweet smile of his own. “You know that you have a couple of new predators stalking you,” he told her, indicating the two men sulking at the edge of the dance floor.

She turned to look at them. “And you thought you’d rush to protect me, again?”

She rolled her body with the music, their proximity so close that she was forcing Five to mimic the movement of her hips to keep from stumbling like an uncoordinated idiot.

“Something like that," he quickly shot back, "or maybe I thought the look of my beat-up face might remind you that you are luring in all the sickos again."

One of her eyebrows lifted just a little. “I am sorry about your face but are you trying to imply that you’re less of a predator?” Her hand brushed across Five’s chest as her eyes slowly ran over him. “Because… You look like the devil to me.”

Five’s hand moved from her shoulder to the small of her back, pulling her close. “Angel," he deeply growled, "I am one hundred percent a predator, but trust me, unlike with them, you’ll like it when I eat you.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at him.

The gesture might have been dismissive, but her body language was anything but. She closed the minuscule distance between them, keeping her body pressed against Five’s as she took control of the dance they were doing, guiding him with a suggestive sway of her hips and her hands gliding across his shoulder blades.

Five did not like to dance and only did so when he was shit faced wasted, but he was buzzed and she moved like liquid silk, luring his body to forget it had bones.

As strange as it was, Five would have been content to stay there with her, just dancing and flirt fighting the rest of the night, but then the song shifted to a more bass laden sounding tune, and noting Five’s discomfort, the girl took his hand and led him from the dance floor. 

Her cool hand felt so good wrapping around his hot fingers, that alone was enough to make him follow but then she said, “Come on, handsome. You saved me, so I think that means I should at least buy you a drink.”

Five had known many compelling women but this little seductress leading him along had a very different kind allure about her and only part of that was in how she was so boldly handling him. Sure, Five had swagger, and probably a dictionary full of as many slights as he did pick up lines if he chose to deploy them, but there was something about the way this girl looked at him that made him feel sexier than he’d ever felt.

In a matter of minutes, Five had forgotten why he’d felt the need to confront her or protect her from the other men in the bar. Her face spoke of youthful innocence but everything else about her said differently and Five wanted to take care of her as much as he wanted to do very bad things to her.

Five knew something wasn’t right about that, but he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Just like in the alley, he felt outside himself, only this time not necessarily in a bad way.

Chapter Two: The Devil's Advocate

After receiving their drinks, the girl took a sip, then gave Five a kittenish look that made his heart beat a little faster than it already was.

Though the girl was getting to him, Five did his best to feign indifference as he smiled back. “What happened to your wings,” he questioned as he looked at her shimmery white outfit while trying not to linger too inappropriately long on the tempting curves of her body.

“I parted ways with them because they were itchy,” she said with a pretty but sad sounding laugh. “Like you, I am more of a fallen angel type, so I fear the illusion I was trying to play off wasn't working that well anyway.”

Silence filled the space between them and Five looked down at the pink drink in his hand, his dark eyelashes fanning over his alcohol flushed cheeks.

“That bruising you’ve got going on really brings out your eyes,” she teased, reaching up to adjust Five's hair so everyone would be able to better see his two pointy devil horns.

Again, he'd totally forgotten that he was wearing the horns and since the girl seemed to be enjoying them, Five decided to leave them on as he huffed a little self-depreciating laugh of his own, then he sipped his matching fruity cocktail and said, “That's great. Just what I was hoping for when I threw my face in front of that gorilla's fat fist.” 

Being the perfect flirt she'd been since Five spotted her on the dance floor, the girl giggled at his grouchy response.

Not sure what to think of this young stranger’s forward behavior with him, Five gave her a sidelong glance.

She sat on her barstool, swirling the ice around in her glass with the glowing straw. Since it was even more crowded than when he had been over there before, Five didn’t sit, but leaned on the bar as he cautiously watched her. Thanks to the booze flowing through him, he felt at ease, but yet not at all, and that contradiction was making it hard for him to let his guard down enough to fully enjoy the girl's surprisingly not horrible company.

“If that hurts too much, I might be able to help,” she offered, clearly referring to his busted eye socket and swollen lip.

Five gave her a hard look. “And how would you help?”

“I’d take you somewhere private and I’d find a way to make you feel better. I owe you and I always pay my debts.”

Five frowned. “Am I missing something or are you looking to get yourself into trouble again?”

“You aren’t missing anything.” She flashed her teeth, her smile so innocent looking that again it was impossible to ignore that she was way too young for him to be checking out in the way he was.

Forcing his eyes off the barely legal eye candy next to him, Five pulled up his cuff to check his watch, noting it was after midnight.

“Like I said before. I would have thought you’d have gone home or called the police to report that guy, not continued with your evening like nothing happened," he challenged as he hesitantly glanced back up then even more firmly added, "Please don't take this the wrong way, but coming into places like this where losers lurk around every corner isn't a very bright idea."  

“What if I said that those kinds of losers were exactly what I was looking for before I found myself and even better catch?”

“I’d say you are fucked up,” Five replied, trying to laugh off her weird rebuttal, but as her hand came up and lingered near the knot of his tie, he stopped laughing and apprehensively asked, “What are you doing?”

“I am helping you.”

“I don’t need help,” Five sharply retorted, his smile beginning to melt away as a hard line drew between his eyes. He set his drink down, readying himself to scold her like an angry parent does a teenager. “I don’t understand why you are at a bar. There is no way you are twenty-one."

As he should have guessed, based on his own appearance, the girl looked very amused by him trying to put her in her place and that only irritated him even more.

“We have quite a bit in common and one of those things is me being older than I look," she said, simpering back at him. "Also like you, if I want something, I have my ways of getting it." She began to softly run her fingers up the back of Five’s suit coat, then to the back of his neck with tender strokes, teasing the ends of his hair. 

The sensation felt so foreign yet so comforting that Five reactively shut his eyes for a moment before quickly opening them again, only now they were filled with alerted suspicion, not the droopy look of contentment he had just so easily given himself over to.

“I don’t think you should be touching me like that,” he cautioned.

The girl looked unconvinced as she leaned into his ear, her cool breath adding to the tickling feel of her fingers splaying through the back of his hair as her nails delicately scratched his scalp in a way that made him want to drool it felt so damn wrong but good. Both feelings mixed, overwhelming Five as wonderful shivers shot up and down his spine.

Unable to fight it, he shut his eyes again. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself to this.

“Oh, I think touching you like this is exactly what you need,” she shushed as she watched him helplessly falling apart. “On top of that, I am not used to such interesting gentlemen like yourself stepping in to right the wrongs of this world for me. Meeting you was a refreshing encounter, and you make me wonder if this thing we have could be more than..."

As she pushed back away from him, Five opened his heavy eyes. The girl's smile was borderline silly as she rolled her eyes around as if thinking really hard about what she was about to say but then she baffled him even more when didn't say a word. Further messing with him, she looked at him again, then plucked the cherry from her glass and began twirling it between her luscious looking red lips.

It was more than clear to Five that she was toying with him but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t eagerly eating it up as he hungrily watched her every move and melted more and more with every sweet touch, she so willingly gave him.

“Wondering if we could what?” he anxiously asked when he lifted his gaze from her mouth to meet her mesmerizing eyes again. 

She said nothing, and his own eyes glazed over with raw desire and something much darker and harder to quench. 

Five’s hand suddenly clamped down onto her leg, midway between her knee and her hip.

Holding his breath, he looked down. He couldn’t believe he’d put his hand on her like that, but it was there, and it was in a very intimate spot.

“It’s okay. I want you to touch me,” she soothed.

Five’s mind filled with all sorts of other things he’d like to be doing to her and touching her only there was just the tip of that iceberg of things he craved.

Heart racing, his gaze rose to her mouth again, lingering on her teeth that were studding into her lower lip.

Five moved in closer, his hand slowly inching higher.

As the girl parted her legs for him, for the third time that night, Five felt as if he was having an outer body experience.

As if her doing that wasn’t temptation enough, a voice in his mind was telling him not to stop, and it was doing it so loudly it was all he could hear.

His hand slid upwards, reaching the top of the girl’s thigh, high up under her skirt where her hip joint met her leg.

Five brought his body closer still, clearing any space left between them as her knees pressed to the insides of his legs, but remained pointed towards the bar, hiding what he was doing to her.

“Number Five, I know what you want to do,” she sweetly sang, almost so quietly and hypnotically that he thought he might have imagined it.

Five hardly thought it was possible that this little vixen next to him had any clue of the things he wanted to do to her but then she proved him wrong.

“You want to make me come, right here while I am sitting on this bar stool,” she said, calling him out without an ounce of doubt.

“Fuck,” Five coarsely muttered.

His fingers as if having a mind of their own brushed across the cool wetness that was soiling her panties. Five's body ached with yearning that was only worse from the feel of that, but his mind suddenly and very painfully kicked back in as if he was just hit upside the head. 

As the lights from the dance floor scattered a rainbow across his face, he felt lightheaded and that had him frantically starting to question what was happening to him.

Five jerked back, but he didn't remove his hand and that was because he felt he couldn't; almost like something was mentally blocking his nervous system from doing what his brain was ordering it to do.

He was trapped.

Unfazed by his state of confusing, the girl reached down as her hand gently explored the smooth cotton that was covering his taut torso. She kept smiling as her fingers walked downward and then below the waistband of his dress pants. Five fought to think clearly, and pull away again, but her grip tightened around the top of the black wool fabric and she said, “Come on, lady killer. I am ready for you…”

“You said my name... But I didn’t tell you my name,” Five whispered as he started to panic. 

The girl’s eyes were locked on Five’s slightly parted lips, and they flickered with that same eerie light he’d seen in them on the dance floor, only this time, he was sure it wasn’t the pulsing lights making them look so otherworldly.

Running her fingers along the sharp angle of Five’s jaw, she only enchanted him further with what she said next.

“Five, I know who you are, and I think you are beautiful. Because of that, I am going to give you something you can’t seem to find on your own, and just so you know, I’d want to give it to you even if you were still outwardly that sad but sweet looking old man you have living inside your head. You are special, and your real age has nothing to do with it.”

“What are you?” Five asked, now sure that the woman next to him wasn’t at all the angel she appeared to be.

Again, she flashed him her pretty smile but this time Five noticed her somewhat elongated incisors looked very sharp.  

Five was stunned; his mind felt foggy, but the fear building in him kept trying to push through the haze.

“You don’t have to be scared of me,” she hushed him with her index finger softly tracing the line of his mouth, stopping before it graced the painful looking split on his lower lip.

Five was frozen in place as the girl’s icy looking eyes darkened and she said, “Like you, I may be a predator, but I assure that you’ll like how I bite.”

The girls’ legs nudged his, wordlessly inviting Five to proceed where he’d left off.

As if drawn to her like they were surrounded by opposite magnetic fields, Five reactively positioned his body even more so in such a way that casual observers would never know what he was doing.

With his hand still up the girl’s skirt, Five’s thumb hesitantly rubbed over her sex.

Five said nothing as he softly touched her, his fingers gliding under the silky fabric as his eyes remained locked to hers.

If the bartender came by them, he’d know exactly what was happening but Five couldn't bring himself to care about that or anything other than her.

The way she was touching him and the things she kept saying to him were all making the crotch of his pants so sinfully tight. That alone was making it hard to think straight but Five knew something was wrong, only he couldn’t bring himself to stop, not when wrong felt so fucking right and his brain kept shorting out.

Driven by unimaginable longing, Five came closer, his lips a mere inch from tasting her. “You may think you know me, but I assure you, you are meddling in things you don't understand,” he darkly warned, then he started to rub harder alongside the small nub of flesh between her legs.

The more his thumb circled her clit, the harder it seemed it was for her to resist rolling her hips against his touch and that empowered Five even more.

He felt like he was coming back to himself, but it was too late. He wasn't going anywhere.

“Beg me to fuck you,” he hotly whispered in her ear, giving her exactly what she wanted but denying himself nothing. 

“Please. Plea-”

Not satisfied, Five upped his pace.

“Fff-uck- Fff-” 

To his delight, she couldn’t finish her breathy hum of 'f' words. The girl dropped her head to Five’s shoulder, her lips brushing past the side of his cheek on the way there. 

He tucked his chin against her temple as if in a lover's embrace.

The feeling of her body being so chilly compared to his enflamed skin instantly reminded Five of how it felt when he was fucking Dolores. That thought and the girl’s immediate obedience that matched that of his beloved, were making his dick so hard it felt like it might rip out of his pants.

Aware of his growing problem, the girl started slowly palming the bulging fabric between his legs.

Five’s head rolled back on his shoulders and a low groan came crawling out of his throat that fortunately was drowned out by the heavy rumble of the bass pulsating through the bar.

“What if someone comes by?” he hissed through his teeth as he tried to focus more on what his fingers were doing than on how good his dick felt in her hand.

“If they know, that just makes this all the hotter,” she breathed against his neck.

Hell yes, it did. 

The thought of some stranger catching him fingering her and her not caring was driving Five’s mind crazy and that made waves of heat surge straight to his loins. 

She wanted him to fuck her and Five wanted to do that more than ever. A deep tightening in his stomach was filling him with visions of dumping his load all over her, just like he liked to do with Dolores when he was in the mood to really shock her.

That wasn’t happening but he was still fucking this girl and just as Five was wishing his hand had more room to move, the girl’s legs drifted further apart.

To that, Five swiftly slid another finger under her panties and straight into her with no warning, causing them both to moan from the venereal tightness of the sensation. Reveling in the feeling of being inside of a real woman’s body for the first time ever, Five’s thumb continued to rub the girl’s clit, and her wet skin directly against his own was making him want to rip the rest of her clothes off and spread her wide as he could so he could bury his face where his fingers were.

Five’s body was blocking his finger pumping in and out of the girl, but when he caught sight of the bartender, who had a slightly different view than the rest of the bar, he returned Five's look of dismayed lechery with a curious looking smile, making it look like he knew exactly what was going on but didn’t seem inclined to interrupt the young devil angel combo that were actively getting off in front of his bar.

“You are such a bad boy, Five,” she whispered as her cool breath tickled his ear and her compliments continued. “You so fucking hot, I wanted you the moment I saw you.” She nipped at his ear, her teeth grazing the shell. “Fuck, I want to taste you,” she prettily growled, and to that, she did taste him, letting her tongue move up his neck before she softly kissed the slight protrusion of his Adam's apple.

As she continued to rub her hand over the fabric covering Five’s confined cock, he wanted to return her compliments but the only thing that would come out of his mouth if he opened it was going to be a moan, so he bit the side of his cheek instead and kept at it, fucking the girl with his fingers thrusting in and out of her slicked hole.

“Oh yes, Ah-Ffff !” she cried.

Her agitated sounds of delight continued as she pulled at the top of Five’s pants, dragging his hips in so his erection came up against the side of her knee. 

Not even questioning it, Five automatically started moving himself against her, humping her with an unforgiving pace. To him, it felt almost exactly like he'd done it some many times with Dolores, and because of that, Five couldn’t help but let his tortured mind slip back to that comforting place of unconditional love that he always had with her.

Now he was safe. That quiet voice in the back of his mind screaming at him that something was wrong went silent.

In his mind, as he pressed himself against the girl, he created the image of Dolores. He could even feel the sensation of his hand holding the familiar shape of Dolores’s rigid fingers. It felt so real that Five could even hear her telling him that she loved him, and not thinking, he whispered it right back.

Dolores’s hand tightened around his, her lips softly kissing his neck again.

Five gasped. The world felt like it was slanting on its axis and he was about to fall off, and that startled him right out of his fantasy.

The seductress held him tight, not letting him move away. “It’s okay, Five. You can pretend I am her. I don’t mind."

Five’s eyes went wider and then even wider when her fingers abandoned his, then brushed through a gap between his shirt buttons, searching through the slits until she found his navel. 

She tickled her fingers around under his clothes, pushing them down the very fine line of hair trailing downwards. He all out spasmed when she found the tip of his cock where he'd tucked it to keep it hidden but was now overhanging his belt because he'd gotten so hard.

The little angel’s finger swirled around the surge of wetness that had formed at his tip, while her other hand squeezed his where he had it digging into her thigh.

All at once, Five's mind was filled with more reassurances and words of love, only now they were not in the voice of Dolores.

With those sharp white teeth pinning her plump lower lip, the girl collected the fluid, then brought it back up to her mouth, licking it as she gazed back at Five in the most sinful way.

To add to Five’s shock, the girl reached back down and started rubbing her thumb up and down the underside of his cockhead, causing him to go weak in the knees.

Five’s mouth burst open, and his words flew out of him. “Oh my god! I know you are inside my head, but I don’t fucking care. I want to be inside you so fucking bad. I want to destroy you. I could fuck you through that wall right fucking now!”

“Ah-hah… That again,” she giggled. “Twice in a matter of an hour you've had that fun idea. You seem to love the idea of fucking people through walls, don't you, Five." This time her taunting was followed by a provocative nip at Five’s lower lip, her teeth scraping over the tender tear in his pink flesh.

Five felt like he was dying. His heart felt like it might leap right out of his chest.

When the wicked cherub seducing him pulled back, letting his lip go, Five let out a small, whimpered plea. “Please kiss me.”

Five watched the girl’s red lips happily spread as she leaned back in, slowly letting her mouth mold to his. 

Five didn’t know what he was doing, but he’d kissed Dolores millions of times, so he thought about that, but let the girl take the lead for him because this was so much more than that.  

The girl was being so soft with him, not at all mimicking the pace of his fingers viciously pumping inside her. Her skin on his was pure ecstasy but when she prodded his lips to part, it was all new territory. The gentle lashes of her tongue teasing his had Five feeling desperate and he immediately pushed for more.

Hand on the back of her neck, Five drove his mouth harder into hers, letting out a soft sound like his soul was breaking.

He felt consumed by the taste of her, and the rhythm of his hand slowed almost to a stop, but only for a second before he picked it back up again and then everything picked up speed.

If the music wasn’t so loud, Five was sure that the sound of the girl’s wanton moans and the sound of his fingers squelching inside her would be heard by everyone around them. As it was, there was no hiding the small thrust of his hips as he fucked her leg like the horny devil he was.

Their kiss had turned deep and wild, and the fresh cut on his lip was throbbing but it felt almost as good as her finger that was still playing with the bloom of his cock. 

When she broke their kiss, feverishly panting, her lips traveled across Five’s neck, softly kissing below his ear with icy hot breaths.

He couldn’t take it anymore. She felt like Dolores, or better yet, like he wanted to believe Dolores felt.

He yanked the girl’s head back, forcing her mouth to drop open. 

Now he saw that her teeth weren’t just sharper than normal, now her canines were dangerously elongated.

He hadn’t imagined it the first time he'd seen it. Five wanted to say so many things, but he didn’t and couldn't. He eyed her blood red lips for only a second before he crushed them with his own again.

Five had never kissed anyone before this. He had never had the nerve to. He had never trusted anyone enough to let himself go in this way. He had no reason to trust this girl and she was clearly not all she appeared, but after a lifetime alone, he was finally getting the chance to have this and for some reason all his worries felt like they didn’t matter anymore.

Five had believed himself damaged beyond repair and that no one would want him if they knew who he really was, and if they did, it would be for all the wrong reasons, but when this girl saw him from the inside, she still had said he was beautiful… 

She started to gasp for air again, her lips moving against the side of Five's mouth. Knowing he had her right where he wanted, and not wanting to let up, Five covered the skin under her ear with wet kisses and daring little bites.

“Oh, Fi-vvve,” she keened, her hips pushing against his hand each time he pumped his fingers into her.

Wanting to make her cry out his name again, Five curved his fingers up, dragging them in and out.

A flood of unintelligible words spilled from the girl’s mouth as her fingernails scratched the skin on the back of his neck.

“OH! FFFfff-uuuck!” she cried.

Not wanting to draw even more attention than they already had even though he was loving this, Five immediately covered the girl’s mouth again with his, smothering her cries as he slid his tongue in, tasting her like he was starving.

The girl’s body started to tremble around Five’s fingers, the feel of it impossible for him not to notice.

She was trying to return Five’s ferocious kiss but was failing and he was in heaven just listening to the beautiful sound of her fighting him.

When Five felt that the pulsing flutter of her body around his fingers had eased to almost nothing again, it was as if the lights got turned back on and the music turned way down. 

Suddenly feeling like a spotlight had been thrown on him and like he’d been drugged and was coming down from the high, Five slowed his hips to a stop.

Despite his bizarrely uncharacteristic level of blind trust unraveling by the second, Five was still careful to keep a steadying hand on the girl and keep her covered as he withdrew his hand.

She met his confused gaze, looking totally blown away as her fingers that had been clinging onto his tie instead came to the nap of his neck, softly stroking his hair again.

“What did you do to me?” The question came out of Five sounding both scared and so full of anger that the girl looked taken aback by it.

“Only what you had wanted,” she defended.

“I didn’t ask to be fucked with. Get out of my head!” he shakily snarled back. 

Her voice came out so unwavering entrancing that it hit him physically. "I am not going to hurt you, Five. It’s okay. Come back to me. I promise it’s going to be okay if you do.”  

Blinking slowly, Five shook his head, trying to wake himself up. In less than a few seconds, even though he intended to, he couldn't let the girl go.

“That’s it, Five,” she soothed as he started to look back at her in awe, rather than filled with venomous hostility. 

She smiled with relief as Five hand started to lovingly stroke the inside of her thigh.

“You are so gorgeous unreal and I just... I have been wanting to do that for a very long time,” he quietly admitted while forming the most boyishly charming grin that it made the girl trapping him in her arms look at a loss for a moment.

“You’ve been wanting to finger me...for a very long time? But we just met?” she teased, followed by a laugh, that made the dimple in Five’s cheek grow even deeper.

“I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss someone who could kiss me back,” he coolly corrected.

“So, I was wrong," she dangled as she smoothed out the length of his shiny tie, her eyes purposefully getting wider the second her hand fleetingly passed over Five's cock again. "You weren’t thinking about getting your hands up my skirt so we could have a moment of shared public debauchery?”

Five lifted his hand to his mouth and nonchalantly tasted his fingers. “Mmm…” he hummed as he tilted his head to the side and his other hand naughtily grazed over the wet fabric between her legs. “I wanted to do that too,” he admitted with an air of playful confidence coming back to him.

Totally taken by the angel's spell again and feeling like he didn't have a care in the world, Five subtly rolled his hard length against her leg to the beat of the music.

“I think there’s more you want to do,” she said, giggling at him.

“What is your name?” Five suddenly asked, his hopeful eyes filled with emotion much deeper than his lust.

“It won’t matter after this,” she whispered just before her lips were on his.

Before he could even consider why it wouldn't matter, like before, her kiss tasted like a fruity paradise and Five wanted to drown in it. It was all teeth and tongue and madness, but then all at once, a metallic taste filled his mouth. He tried to pull back, but he couldn’t. The unpleasant flavor grew stronger, and the girl kissed him harder, her teeth locking down on his bottom lip as he moaned out of the sheer intensity of blinding pleasure hitting him and in pure terror and for what he didn’t even know any more.

Her kiss was consuming him, it was too much, but then the bloody iron like flavor abated and Five was suddenly swallowing something much colder and almost bittersweet tasting.

It tasted like nothing he'd ever known but he hungrily tried to get more. He kissed the girl back even harder than he already was. Five’s heart hammered in his chest and his body sizzled with heat so strong that he thought he might spontaneously combust.

Then it stopped.

He was standing there at the bar; the music so loud it was deafening. The girl was holding both his hands in hers as a curious smile graced her stained lips.

Five blinked a few times.

What the hell was going on?

He felt…

Actually, he wasn’t actually sure what he was feeling, other than he felt better than he ever had, and all he wanted was to kiss her like that again.

~~~~~~

A few moments later, Five had stripped off his suit jacket and was tossing it on a purple lounge couch in a private room that the girl was able to acquire with a mere nod of her head towards the bartender.

After scanning the small room, he turned to the girl, his eyes running up and down as she approached him.

Coming at him hard, her hands landed on Five’s chest, pushing him backwards until he was cornered with the back of his legs against the couch.

“What are you waiting for?" she taunted. "I thought you wanted to fuck me through a wall, and I am pretty sure that I see one right here that should do the trick." She slowly moved her gaze to the busy looking wallpaper to their right as if he didn't know what wall she was talking about.

With a devious smile spreading, Five goaded the girl right back. “Angel, before the night is over, I will be killing that tight little pussy of yours by nailing it through a wall or just railing the fuck out of it any damn place I see fit.” Five shamelessly palmed the crotch of his pants as he added, “But first, this devil wants to use his demon dick to have a different kind of fun with you.”

The girl looked honestly shocked for the first time by something Five had said to her and that made him very happy.

He quickly undid the metal fastening of his belt, and then undid his pants.

She was speechless.

As she already had felt, Five was not small, but now his tight black boxer briefs were leaving very little to imagination. He looked utterly adorable standing there with his pants down and his slim fit dress shirt untucked but doing nothing to cover how much he wanted her.

With a steady hand pressing down on the girl’s shoulder, Five encouraged the girl to sink to her knees.

He confidently stood above her, the only tell that he wasn’t as sure of himself as he looked was the slight tremble of anticipation running through his body as he took her halo, throwing it back behind her.

Sliding a hand down, Five pushed his underwear down, freeing his stiff cock.

The girl let out a little whimper.

Feeling pretty damn proud, Five grabbed a wad of her hair, then sharply pulled her head, pushing the girl closer to his body.

“My turn, angel,” he tauntingly sang with misleadingly boyish play in his voice.

She licked her lips then opened her mouth around him, her tongue leisurely tracing up the veins covering his engorged shaft.

After only one pass, the girl stopped to gauge Five’s reaction. 

The moment he locked eyes with the girl, she wrapped her lips around him again and Five was quick to push her down without warning, forcing her to gag around him as she struggled and gasped for air. 

Smirking, Five let her sit that way, letting her adjust as he let out an unavoidable low groan over that sinful act of cruelty. His fingers played with the girl’s silky hair, petting her even if it was a degrading form of encouragement. Doing as he pleased, Five refused to adjust the pressure he was putting on the back of her throat, but for some reason, it felt okay to being doing this, just like she said it would.

With a small nod of approval from him for her quick submission, Five reached down, requesting the girl give him her hands. She did, then he proceeded to place them palm down on his thighs. Taking her hair again, Five allowed the girl to move freely, bobbing her head up and down, mostly working his tip with her tongue.

Her eyes fluttered and her nails gently dug into Five’s slouched pants as he started to rock her head back and forth over him again, making his dick disappear in her wet mouth. Holding her the way he was, with her head titled back, her throat open and lined up perfectly, it allowed Five deep penetration and a view he'd only ever seen in porn and the sight and the feel of it was making his already heavy cock feel like it might truly choke her if he got anymore turned on.

“If it’s too much let me know,” he said, clearly indicating that she should push back if he was too rough or if he made her take him too deep.

He wasn't expecting it, but she immediately pushed back, then started circling her tongue around his tip as she moaned. Since this was not what he wanted, Five's mind whirled with punishments he could deliver but his stomach filled with butterflies the more he listened to her. As she teased the underside of his shaft, his breathing grew heavy, and he couldn’t help but grind against her marvelous tongue.

Reaching up, the girl’s hand dragged down over Five’s abdomen. She was taking her time with him, and it was evident she was enjoying it and the feeling of each ridge between his muscles as he held his body tight, trying not to sway. Five had to admit, he was enjoying it too, but then she wrapped her hand around him, covering the base of his shaft but not moving. His hands clenched; his knuckles white as he let out a rough sounding sigh of exasperation.

Letting his eyes settle on her, Five was just about to start thrusting down her throat again when the girl’s cold hand began to move, and her head shallowly bobbed over his cockhead as she softly sucked.

Five’s body shuddered and she responded by moving her hand up his length, jerking him a few times before pressing her thumb gently but firmly against the underside of his tip where her mouth was just popping on and off.

Sudden waves of pleasure hit Five, followed by shaky breaths as his fingers tightened their grip on her. Taking complete control of her movements again, he quickly forced her head down, pushing her lips sliding all the way to his pubic bone and only pulling her head up again so he could fuck into her throat all over again.

It’s not like he hadn’t warned her or given her an out. That much was clear in Five’s fuzzy mind. There was no denying he wasn't getting a sick sort of pleasure from her tears and her wet gags and each and every spasm of her throat, and there was no way he wasn’t enjoying the sound of the girl’s desperate whines and moans.

She wasn’t tapping out, but her fingers were digging into his thighs almost painfully as her eyes rolling back so far Five was sure her brain must be turning off because he'd skewered it.

Loving every second of dominating her and roughly fucking her face so hard he was making it impossible for her to think, Five paid her back by not holding in his deep moans and low grunts of euphoria, but all too quickly he had to stop, or it would be over, and he didn't want that at all.

As his hips slowed and pulled away, the girl’s swollen lips gently popped off him. 

Her brows furrowed upwards as she watched Five with a needy expression. Feeling like he could get away with it, he tapped her chin with the tip of his cock, spreading the drips of drool that the girl couldn’t help but have on her after taking him that long and hard. 

Five smiled down at the girl, a cruel sort of look spreading across his face as he watched the little angel wordlessly begging. He tightened his grip on the back of her head.

“God, you are fucking beautiful,” he breathed, then suddenly yanked her hair back, forcing her to crane her neck back. “I can’t wait to paint that pretty fucking angel face of yours.”

After a few more taps to the girl's waiting tongue, Five swiftly brought her down on him again, immediately causing her to gag. The sound of her body fighting him and the feel of her moans buzzing against him as she twitched and repeatedly tried to swallow, all had Five feeling so damn close to the edge again, but he couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to.

Soon, his rhythm became even more aggressive as he took her head in both hands, sadistically slamming his cock into her mouth while griding the back of her throat before pulling off only to repeat the process.

“You really wanted my dick, didn’t you?” Five breathlessly sputtered as he threw his head back and his eyes fell shut.

Inevitably his brutal pattern became more erratic. Eventually, Five pulled back, fully pulling out. His hand that was tangled in the strands of the girl’s hair moved to the girl’s pouty lips instead.

Jerking her chin up he urgently asked, “You think you can swallow all of it?”

She eagerly nodded.

With an air of desperation coming out of him, Five stroked himself needily, bringing himself closer and closer as the girl watched in anticipation, her mouth open and tongue out.

With a few sharp inhales, Five’s body began to shudder, and his legs began to feel like they could give out on him. His heel squeaked on the floor as he drove forward, intent on delivering. 

A long string of rough groans fell from Five's gapped lips as the girl flinched and shut her eyes in response to the pearls of white falling over her awaiting tongue.

Having had plenty of pent-up sexual tension from just the last few hours, not to mention a lifetime of being deprived of anything to this level of sexual eroticism, Five’s load repeatedly spurt out of him in heavy ropes.

The girl swallowed and swallowed, trying to keep up but even though she was, Five deliberately pulled back, letting the last of his cum land across the girl’s flushed cheeks and drip down between the mounds of her milky white breasts.

"Oh fuck," he gasped. His hand remained clasped around his shaft. His angry grip kept moving but slowly as it passed over his hot length and he road that the last incredible waves of his release.

Even though Five was on another planet as the heavy sound of his panting started to abate, he noticed that the girl was suddenly sitting there still as a statue. She was totally quiet, and her hands were in her lap as if waiting for further instruction or perhaps it was because she was too scared to move. The fact that Five couldn’t tell was quickly overshadowing his feeling of frenzied contentment.

His chest was still moving up and down faster than normal as he looked in shock down at the mess that he’d made of her. Appalled at what he'd done, he quickly pulled up his clothes and swiftly tucked his softening dick back in his tight black underwear.

Starting to panic, he stopped at zipping himself up, worriedly staring at her again with his belt still dangling open and his mind falling apart. 

Five threw his hand back over his hair, brushing the dark strands out of eyes as he looked around the small room, trying to find something to clean the girl up with. He saw a convenient box of tissues, sitting on a small side table so he lunged for them, then gently as possible, he wiped his seed from the girl’s face. 

As Five was about to draw another disposable wipe across the tops of her glistening breasts, he stopped short, realizing that maybe doing that wasn’t a great idea. 

He tossed the soiled tissue on the floor, rubbing his shaking hand over his face.

As his fingers brushed over his eye, Five noticed it didn’t hurt at all. It felt totally normal, which made sense because he could also tell that it wasn’t swollen at all anymore.

All of a sudden, it dawned on him that it wasn’t swollen when they came into the private room. His lip felt normal too and being extremely horny couldn't be the only reason he'd ignored it.

Eyes still closed; the girl let out a small sound that Five wasn't sure how to interpret. Her hand floated up, a finger hesitantly poking at her sticky flesh where her white top dipped the lowest.

“I am sorry,” Five sputtered. “I don’t know what came over me. That was so-"

So ashamed of how he’d just treated her and confused about his face and that just let himself do that, Five couldn’t begin to formulate what he was thinking.

“I am going insane,” he breathed, his eyes falling away from the girl as he started to step back, but then her other hand found his, her cool fingers trapping him even more than the couch behind him.

She started to smile. Still her eyes were closed, and it was making her look so blissfully happy it only further confused Five. She was the hottest girl he'd ever seen but she was way too young for him, and from the time he'd seen her on the dance floor, he never intended to do more than have a friendly drink with her. But clearly something changed his way of thinking, but what that was, he couldn't remember and before he could get too upset about that and what he'd just done, the girl finally started to talk.

“You don’t need to apologize," she said, rubbing at her closed eye lids. "I loved every second of that, and I know that nobody has ever been lucky enough to say this to you, and you are more than worthy of the compliment, so here it is. Five Hargreeves, you have a very nice cock, and you taste amazing."

As much as it seemed she meant it, it also seemed she couldn't say such a dirty and brazen thing with out laughing about it and that made Five feel a lightness that made no senses with the rest of his heavy emotions.

This was not normal. Something wasn't right but he wanted so badly to pretend it was.

As nice as she was being about everything, Five couldn’t help but feel like a total asshole despite all his other terrify reservations, so playing along, he ineloquently countered that with the only thing he could come up with. “I do what I can do with what I’ve got, and unfortunately, I have nothing to compare that unforgettable experience to, but I can confidently say that was the most amazing blow job I have ever received, so thank you.”

“Your very welcome. I do what I can with what I’ve got,” she repeated, copying his words and tone so well that Five couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

Feeling some better, though he didn't understand why the sudden switch, his hand came down on her head again and he started to lace his fingers through her tousled hair, trying to fix it. He wanted to help her up and was reaching down to do it but that all stopped when her eyes started opening.

Five’s eyes blew wide as he stared at the unnatural light emanating back at him where before had only been the paleness of her bottomless eyes. Suddenly, he remembered begging the girl to kiss him while they were out in the bar. 

He remembered the taste of blood.

Her smile grew wider, exposing her fangs.

In an instant, Five swooped low, wrenching her head back at the same time he pulled out the knife that had been hidden in the strap attached to his ankle.

Eyes ablaze; he brought the shining blade to the girl's neck.

~~~~Chapters 3 and 4 coming very soon....(mid-next week)

Thank you for reading and if you like, check out my other stories at the links below.

Master List Post to my Five Centric Stories and Art

Link to my other posts on Tumblr

Link to visit me on AO3

#Number Five smut #number five fanfiction #Five hargreeves #number five imagine #five hargreeves x reader #number five fanfic #five hargreeves smut #number five x reader #tua five #smut and angst #five hargreeves fanfiction #dark Number Five #dark aesthetic #vampires smut #vampirism #five hargreeves x you #five x reader #five x you #number five x you #kaybreezy-on-a03

[thestoryloft]

"Malebolg"

Bucky Barnes x Reader smutty fic (18+)

Contains HURT W/ NO COMFORT, explicit sexual content, prostitute!reader, unrequited love, Bucky being MEAN

Gender-neutral reader (no pronouns or gendered physical descriptions are used)

It’s winter the first time he visited you. Maybe that’s why you fell for it. The air was so bitter and frigid you couldn’t ever quite feel warm enough. Your bones were so dry they ached for respite from the solitude the mute, colorless sky brought. That winter was so cold no number of lovers could fuel a single spark of warmth in you. Until he visited.

“We have a large variety of options,” your boss told him as you all lined up. “Anyone catch your eye?”

He examined the lot of you stoically, seemingly unimpressed. When his eyes met yours, he stopped.

“This one.” He said instantly.

Your boss laughed. “A sweet one, a little plain though, can I recommend-”

“No.” he snapped at her then returned his gaze to yours. “This one.”

You escorted him to your assigned bedroom- a plain, more diminutive space indicative of your menial but steady success in your profession. “What can I do for you?” you asked him quietly.

“Lay down,” he murmured, pulling off his shirt. When you rested your back on the bed he crawled over you gently. He pulled your thin top off and you gasped as your chest made contact with his. His flesh felt close to burning you from how searing his warmth was.

His lips searched for yours and you placed a gentle hand over his mouth. “I-I don’t kiss.” You told him, so instead he buried his face in your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin by your clavicle. You still don’t know how he found that spot immediately as if he had a detailed map of your body’s inner workings. Maybe he wanted to strike your carotid, thinking if he blistered the skin there enough he could lap up the blood and drink from your life force. Either way, he left that room that day with a tiny piece of you beneath his fingernails.

You didn’t expect to see him again until he showed up again. And again. It became a weekly occurrence, so regularly the woman running the front of the house would send him straight up to your room. Once he arrived while you were still with a different client, and after your boss barged in to throw the older man with you out, she informed you he paid her extra to have you immediately. Your coworkers began to refer to him as ‘your soldier’ when they would gossip about what you could possibly be doing for the two hours he would pay for. You pitied them for not getting to experience the pleasures you were.

One day he arrived late into his usual time with you. His hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead and his clothes were disheveled. You asked him if he was okay and he simply replied “It’s been a shit day.”

That day he was rough. He lay his torrent of emotion into you- anger with each grasp of your hips, frustration with each thrust, and a million others through the throaty groans ripping out of him. It was a passion you’ve never felt before, the kind that rattles your bones and ignites your skin. You let him use you and lavished the fire in him only you could tend to. “See what you do to me?” he asked as he pressed your hand against his racing heart. The rest of that week you didn’t feel quite so cold.

Winter thawed and spring began to blossom. Your boss threw the windows open in the house to bring in fresh air and alert potential clients to the revelry occurring under her roof. He pressed into you against the windowsill, not caring as you pointed out the passersby below in the street. “I want them to see,” he moaned in your ear, “that you’re mine.”

A flower delivery came to the house. Your boss was about to turn them away, informing the delivery man he must have the wrong place until she glanced at the note. “These are for you. From your soldier.”

You thanked him for them the next time he was by, and he told you the pleasure was all his when he massaged the rose petals into your skin with an ardor you were sure was reserved for religious worship. You never smelled quite so good as you did that week.

“I swear,” he’d moan in your ear after climaxing, still thrusting into you, “I'm going to knock you up. Get you pregnant with my baby.” And even though you knew that wasn't possible, it didn’t prevent you from writhing at the sentiment and secretly dreaming of making it a reality.

Spring gave way to the hottest summer you can remember. It was all sweat and spit and skin-on-skin. He tied your wrists to the bed posts and tested your limits, forcing you out onto your last thread and plucking at it until you were a begging mess. Taking pity, he sent you plummeting mercifully before his own self-control gave out and he worked himself into you, overstimulated and pliable under his strong touch.

He kissed you for the first time on the solstice, and the longest day of the year passed in mere seconds. You can still feel his mouth on yours- he’s imprinted on you so deeply you doubt it will ever fade, though if it was up to you it would last forever.

He told you no one else would taste you again, he’d spoken to your boss and arranged the finances. You didn’t mind, rather it struck you as another sign of his deep devotion. Anyways, your hot fervor was relentless, and he was the only release capable of satisfying your burning hunger. “You’re mine,” he reminded you as he sunk into your heat, “I’ll take care of you.”

The late spring winds stripped the trees of their foliage and ushered in the first chills of fall. When you felt that all-too-familiar rush of cold, a heaviness encompassed your heart. He noticed immediately, and you couldn’t help the tears that fell when he insisted you tell him what was wrong. He just held you, kissing away your tears. He quelled all your fears, he promised he would fix them all, and with his deft, careful touch he pulled every string of sadness out of the tangle of emotions choking your soul.

“I’m going to steal you away from here,” he told you, “and make sure you never hurt again.”

And how could you do anything but fiercely trust him when he swore on his very soul you were his deepest desire, his mast in the storm, his one and only?

A new feeling settled in with the chill- hope. It illuminates your face when he visits today.

“How are you?” you ask with a smile as he wraps his arms around you.

He kisses your head gently, taking in your scent. “Okay. Better now that I’m here.”

Your heart swells at that and you nod. “It’s cold out there.”

“Want me to warm you up?” there’s a sparkle in his eye as he leads you to the bed and claims your mouth.

It’s a familiar sensation by now but one you can’t get enough of. He licks hungrily into your mouth, subduing you little by little. It’s perfect, and in your endorphin-glutted mind, only one sentiment is able to break through the sticky sweet fog.

I love you.

You open your mouth to moan as his teeth nip at your throat but that sentiment is pressing at your lips and breaks out in a jumbled stream you can’t stop.

“I love you, I love you, I love-”

His broad hand claps over your mouth. “Stop that.”

His gaze is stern but softens meeting yours. He pulls his hand away and your lips pull up in a watery smile. “I do.”

He frowns, breaking away from your gaze. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“What do I mean?” he scoffs, looking around uncomfortably. “You’re the hooker, you should know.”

A sharp, startling pain slices at your chest. A hooker? You’re a hooker to him? You try to shake away the dread bubbling up in your gut.

“I stopped being a hooker weeks ago.” You remind him with a slightly raised voice. It’s true- you’ve had no clients since he arranged you’d be only his.

He shakes his head and crawls off the bed. “What are you talking about?”

“What have you been talking about?” You’re nauseous now. “What’s the point of everything you’ve been saying all these weeks to me? How I’m yours, how you’re going to take me away?”

“Going to take you… Jesus Christ!” He starts pacing with his hands on his hips. “That was fucking foreplay. You can’t actually think that I- fuck!”

You sit up, staring at one spot on the floor and trying desperately not to throw up. Your voice is shaky. “Was it foreplay when you danced with me? When you said I was your paramour, your soul’s desire, your-”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” He spits the words at you. “Do you believe anything a man says during sex?”

Your mind is reeling. Every whispered sentiment and enamored praise flash through your head, every oath sworn over and over through groans and gritted teeth turns black in an instant. It congeals, forming a thick, choking smog in your stomach.

“So none of it was real? You didn’t mean any of it?”

“I fucking paid you!” He roars right in your face and your ears ring from it. “And I still haven’t gotten my money’s worth.”

Your hope, anger, and sorrow all drain down, down through your heart and soul until they seep out of your body, leaking into the floorboards. You’re left with a gaping emptiness inside your gut, dark and still. The crushing pain is gone. Now you feel nothing.

“I’m sorry I wasted your time.” You murmur, a calm numbness settling in your fingertips.

“Damn right, you wasted my time.” He shakes his head, scoffing. After a moment, he licks his lips. “Someone should punish you.”

You nod, keeping your gaze down as you fan your sweaty fingers across your thighs. “What can I do for you?”

“Lay down.” He shoves you roughly down on the bed, tearing your clothes off. “You sweet, stupid slut.”

He sucks at your throat and you whimper, pawing at his chest. He takes you without preparation, without looking at you even though you’re staring up at him with glassy eyes blurred from the stream of tears falling down your face. When he bites at your jaw, you’re sure he tastes the salt there.

It’s frantic and brutal, he punishes you with fervor and you repent desperately. His skin sears yours painfully- will you ignite? Burst into a plume of flame under him?

“You’re fuckin nasty you know that, sweet thing? Messy fucking hole creaming all over my cock.” He groans in your ear. His words are shameless, maybe because you’re so full of shame there isn’t room on this bed for more. He climaxes with a grunt and a thrust and you bite down on your palm to hold in a sob.

“I’ll have to speak to your boss. I don’t like having my time wasted by hookers.” He says bitterly before pulling out of you with a hiss.

You sit up as far as your weakened spine will allow, watching him clean himself. “I would’ve died for you.” Your words are barely a whisper.

He rolls his eyes. “I never asked you to do that.”

It doesn’t take him long to collect his clothes and leave.

The first snow is falling in fluffy flakes as he hurries to the brothel. It’s been a week since he was last there, and the bitter ache in his bones tells him it’s been a week too long.

He couldn’t tell you how he really felt. He couldn’t. You caught him off guard, confronted him too abruptly. He knows he was a little harsh with you, but he needed you to stop talking before he lost his mind or finally admitted to himself all he wanted was to drag you out of that whore house and never let your hand go as long as he lives.

Thing is, he knows that’s a bad idea. People close to him get hurt. So he keeps everyone at arm's length, except in the heat of your arms that got harder and harder to remember. So he left, and this week has been the darkest he’s had in a while. Fuck everything, he needs you. He can’t possibly continue without you for another minute, let alone another week. He’ll explain this all to you, convince you to come with him.

The madame of the house is at the entrance, and steps in front of the hallway when he tries to get through.

She states grimly that you’re not there.

He frowns at her. “What do you mean?”

You quit days ago, she explains. You got a boat ticket and shipped out, she has no idea where to.

It feels like she just slapped him across the face. He takes a step back, reeling and with no other idea, he runs to the docks, dodging past tourists and cars, not caring as he’s cussed out. At the harbor, he dodges to the edge of the pier and stares out over the black water. There are a few ships just visible on the horizon. Are you on one of them?

A snow squall swishes by, sending a chill down his spine.

You close your eyes as the breeze picks up on the main deck. Most of the crew and passengers are below deck where central heating keeps it cozy. You stepped out for just a moment of fresh air and got sidetracked by the bright sunset visible in a break in the clouds.

You didn’t even know where the boat was sailing to until you booked the ticket a few days ago. You’ve been at sea ever since, and the further you get from your old home the clearer the fog in your head feels. Maybe someday, once you finally reach that horizon line, you’ll start to feel okay again.

When the winter winds hit you, it’s not as chilling as you remember.

#bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #smut fic #smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel #winter soldier #angst #no comfort #smut and angst #unrequited love

[rd-eternity]

Whumptober Day 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.” | Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

Words: 4.6k Rating: Explicit

Summary: Liam thought werewolves couldn't get scars, but he's seen Theo's before. When he gets another after a simple mission gone wrong, he finally finds out what pieces of Theo's past are permanently marked on his body.

The chimera’s eyes are fixed on his, chest heaving.  “I… Liam.”  He swallows.  “They made it so scars would stay on me, no matter how much I could heal.  It’s a reminder of failures.”  His eyes flick to Liam’s lips.  “Liam.” His thumb brushes a scar on Theo’s cheek.  “What’s this from?” “Surgery,” he says, voice thick, words barely coming out.  “Please.” “Please what?” His heart is racing so fast, Liam thinks it might explode.  “Liam, please just stop teasing me and-” The hand on Theo’s cheek wraps to the back of his head and pulls him down.  The sound the chimera makes is cut off when their lips meet.  Liam grabs him around the waist and pulls their bodies together, hips and chests fitting together, Theo’s back pressed against the counter.  It rucks his shirt up just enough for Liam to slide his hand up, rocking against Theo, who breaks away from his lips with a gasp.  Liam goes back in, kissing him harder, tongue swiping inside the chimera’s mouth when it parts open with a whimper.   When he pulls back, Theo steps away from the counter, chasing his lips.  Liam gives it to him, both arms going up the back of his shirt, clutching at his burning skin.  His own back hits the wall of the bathroom, next to the shower, Theo kissing him with everything he has.

#thiam #archive of our own #fanfiction #theo raeken #liam dunbar #teen wolf #whumptober2023 #no.27 #let me see #matches #scars #smut fic #smut and feels #smut and angst #mostly pwp #fic moodboard

[athenasparrow]

Four months ago I started a smutty fic dubbed All In The Name Of Science. At the time I was firmly in the fluff-smut camp and hated putting my adored characters through anything more than a brief bout of sadness. I always loved to read angst but didn't have the patience myself to slog through something difficult so we could arrive at a happy place again.

I've been busy loudly spreading my smut sprinkles to anyone who will listen and in the process of sharing many conversations (and snippets) with two angst QUEENS, writing angst has turned into something incredibly fun instead of a hard point to overcome! I now find it highly amusing to torture poor Lily and James so on that note...

All In The Name Of Science is coming out in December this year! It will be lovingly gifted to @kay-elle-cee for being the sweetest friend with unending support and encouragement for my angsty explorations and @wearingaberetinparis for inspiring this fic in the first place and setting a high angst bar that I will only be climbing halfway 😂 You are both gorgeous gems and I am lucky to call you my friends 😘 Enjoy the snippet...

#athenasparrow #AITNOS #all in the name of science #jily gift fic #smut and angst #athena's wips #writing update #jily #upcoming fic #in time for the holidays

[stxrmylxve]

Hi!!— do you think u could write some absolute filth about dom Sanzu & knife-play for Gn!Reader please? that would be so awesome!! 🥺🔪

ima be honest, this is something i think i would have to do rl to get the idea of how to describe it 💀 but i will try!

NOTES: knife-play, pet names, use of drugs, cutting, blood, you crying, overstimulation, angst, highness

He slinged open his pocket knife, twirling it in his fingers as he eyed your trembling figure.

“you into this or sum’? you’re already quivering and I haven’t even done anythin’ yet.” he says, edging your skin with the shapr knife, sending shivers down your spine.

“Sanzu-“

In one swift movement, the knife was pressed against your neck and he had stuffed you to the brim with his cock. You let out a squeak as you tried to move away from the knife, only earning a grunt and a bruising hand gripping your thigh.

You squirm in his grasp, letting out a raspy moan as he picked you up and angles even deeper. He begins to move slowly, allowing the knife to caress your pure skin like a snake. He trailed along your body, stopping at your waist line as if he was contemplating going lower. Opting not to, he continued moving along your body as he picked up the pace.

Once he was satisfied with the red lines along your body, he halted his movements and flicked the knife shut, setting it on the bed beside you. However, if you thought you were done, you were anything but.

He slammed into you without a notice, elicting heavenly moans from your mouth as he put on yet another sadistic grin.

“you like that? I bet so you bitch.” he snarls as he yanks your hair, creating small tears at the corner of your eyes. He pounded into you, sending you into euphoria as you reached your high. He kept on all the way through, sending you beyond overstimulation as the tears began to fall.

He was lost in his own mind, gazing up at the ceiling as if he was bored as you moved ruthlessly below him. It was as if his mind wasn’t even here.

“S-sanzu!” you call out, falling upon deaf ears as he glanced down at you before rolling his eyes.

“Sanzu stop! H-hang on!” you say, gripping his hands which had a harsh grasp on your waist. He slowed down with an annoyed groan, shooting your a threatening glare as if you had interupted something huge for him.

“what?”

“d-did you take any pills today?” you stammer out.

“yeah, so what?” he replies, grabbing the knife and flicking it back out before etching into your skin.

You screamed in pain, clawing at his wrists until he pinned your hands above you, the pain being unbearable. You called out his first, last name, anything to try and get his attention, but it still fell on deaf ears as he continued to carve something into your stomach.

“RAN!” you yell, using your last resort as the man rushed in.

Seeing blood was natural to him, especially near Sanzu, but whenever you called, something was up, normally not the sky. He saw the blood trickling down your sides and onto the sheets below and grabbed sanzu by the shoulders, yanking him back and taking the knife as sanzu kicked.

“hey! let me go you-“

“want me to get mikey?” ran threatens, wrangling sanzu into his stern grasp as the man went quiet.

“no.” he whispered, mumbling something under his breath as he glanced at your figure. You had doubled over and covered yourself slightly, crying really hard as you clutched your stomach.

Something snapped in him as he saw you there, weeping. it was because of him. he had hurt you.

He vowed to never go too far, to never cut you up badly, and here he was, being pulled away for doing the exact thing he said he wouldn’t ever do.

His frown faltered and was replaced by a small stream of tears, realizing what he had done.

He had broken his promise. All because of drugs.

#tokyo revengers sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #bonten sanzu #sanzu x reader #sanzu x y/n #x reader #gn reader #gn!reader #x gn reader #angst #ran haitani #tokyo rev ran #mikey #tokyo rev mikey #bonten #bonten mikey #sex and drugs #smut and angst #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers

[ellekhen]

When Your Mind's Made Up

Chapter 5 - The Spawn

Chapter Summary: Church wakes up as a newborn vampire spawn. It’s a warm, albeit disconcerting welcome — especially as he gets used to his new features… as well as his new bond with his maker.

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Original Male Character/Illithid Tav Rating: Explicit Progress: 11K+ words; Chapters 5/15

- Excerpt below -

Church’s mouth does water instinctively at the idea of it — at the very recent memories of blood gushing abundantly from their enemies. It was so wasteful in retrospect, when he is starving for it now…

Dwelling upon it makes Church whimper involuntarily as another pang of hunger rattles through his body. 

“Oh poor thing,” Astarion fusses over him. “Hm. I wonder…”

Church watches in alarm as the vampire takes his own forearm and bites deeply into it without so much as a grunt of pain. 

“Love — what…!” the tiefling scrambles to stop him. 

But he smells the blood singing as it flows from his lover — his maker’s — pale skin, and he grows dizzy in anticipation. 

“Allow me, darling,” Astarion coos at him. 

The vampire presses his wound against Church’s lips, and in an instant the tiefling instinctively, eagerly latches hold of him — suckling and lapping up the blood like a man parched. 

“There you go,” Astarion murmurs soothingly, tangling his other hand into the tiefling’s hair and pulling him in close to his body. “Drink, my love. It should ward off the hunger pains for now.”

Church moans happily as he drinks. It is blood. It still tastes like blood, and nothing can change that. But now, it fills his brain with euphoria, his veins with adrenaline, and his body…

He groans and shifts uncomfortably as his cock stiffens from the sheer pleasure of the sensation. Astarion chuckles to himself. 

“Just a fledgling,” he murmurs in wonderment. 

Church squeezes Astarion’s arm tightly, greedily even as it begins to pull away. He longs to bite and rend into that delicious flesh, pull more blood from his lover’s veins, but…

He won’t do that to Astarion. 

He wouldn’t dare. 

“That’s enough, pet,” the vampire says calmly. Coldly. 

Church stops immediately, his hands dropping as the elf gingerly withdraws his arm. The tiefling remains slumped against the elf’s chest, licking his lips and still stifling his moans at the continued sensation.

“…sorry love,” Church mutters sheepishly. “You’re just… it’s just…”

“Delicious, isn’t it? You never forget your first taste,” Astarion purrs as he pulls him into a kiss. His tongue eagerly swipes into Church’s mouth, groaning as he tastes his own blood upon his lips and tongue. “But rest assured — I will not let you be a slave to hunger, my love. I’m sure you’re already feeling better.”

Read from the beginning!

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 oc #churchstarion #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #ascended astarion #smut and angst #baldur's gate iii #baldur’s gate fanfiction #astarion #illithid tav #baldurs gate astarion #fanfiction #fanfic #bg3 fan fic #bg3 tiefling #tiefling #bg3 warlock #oc x astarion #tav x astarion #bg3 smut #archfey warlock #ascendant astarion #when your mind's made up

[ursulanoodles]

In the Moonlight

Shane's life has gone to hell, and he spends most of his nights sulking at the Stardrop Saloon, but Emily's positivity and friendship keep him afloat. He never meant to develop feelings for her, and he convinced himself that she didn’t feel the same way, but a night alone in Cindersap Forest has him thinking otherwise.

Happy early Valentine's Day. I wrote a thing. Lots of self-loathing and smut. 🙈

#shane x emily #sdv fanfic #a03 fanfic #sdv shane fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley fanfiction #stardew valley oneshot #sdv fic #smut and angst #sdv Emily fanfic

[that-tmr-girl]

His Past {Part 1}

Sub Aris x Dom female reader smut, masterbation, blowjob, oral, face riding, vaginal sex

Y/N was never supposed to find out about Aris's past. His ties to WICKED, the way had watched them in the Maze, the plans he helped put together, all of it. She was never supposed to find out just how much he had truly done.

He had been sloppy though. Because while he usually vented to the mirror about everything when she wasn't around, he hadn't made sure of it. Not after the memories of them.

Despite being the main player of them he had woken up in tears. Seeing Y/N's face watching over him while she whispered soothing words, he came back to reality as his heart rate slowly went back to normal.

“You're okay, Aris. It was just a nightmare, okay? You're safe now. You're safe with me,”She coaxed, pressing her lips to his forehead.

“Sorry,”He muttered, feeling his face heat up as he avoided looking at her. Shaking her head, she repeated that it was okay before kissing the tip of his nose.

“I've got tea, okay? That'll help knock you out for a few hours,”She promised.

“When'd you make tea?”

“It doesn't matter,”She shrugged, leaving his side for a moment. Pulling his knees to his chest, as he watched her leave he tried not to cry. Sometimes, he wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to get it over with already so that this weight would be lifted from his shoulders. Then, maybe his mind would let him be truly at peace.

If she reacted in anger though, if she left, he would never find peace again. He would never know the word hope. He would never feel her lips on her skin as she made the world better by those little things. Little things like meeting his gaze across the room, holding his hand under the table, whispering loving words in his ear when they were surrounded by people, kissing him whenever he walked through the door, letting him pick her up and spin her around just because, read to him, keep her head on his lap while they looked at the stars, dance in the ocean waves when nobody else was awake, and make him tea.

Thinking about all those little things made him sure that this secret slipping out would ruin everything. So he kept his mouth shut as she came back with a cup of tea and a gentle smile. Rubbing his back, she kept her gaze on him as he drank it. Still in a mindless daze, it was gone before he could even comprehend the taste.

Despite having already been ready to collapse the drink truly was pushing him over the edge. So the second his head moved from her shoulder to the pillow he was out like a light.

When he woke up, she wasn't there. Looking through the blinds, when he saw that the sun was up it made sense. She was stuck with the afternoon job, getting to deal with the heat as she tensed to the crops. He had the evening job of healing up anybody who was injured or sick. Usually, they would spend their mornings together. While he wished he would have been awake for that, he recognized that she found a way for him to sleep soundly. So he would look forward to seeing her tonight.

That memory from last night though, of him in front of the monitor, watching a Greenie run straight from the Maze before anyone could catch him, stung. The Gladers did what they were able, yelling for him from outside, sending all their Runners in, but in the end it was all in vain. The Griever's got to him early in the night.

Standing in front of the mirror, he looked at himself as he kept telling himself everything he thought.

“They're going to find out one day. All of them. They're going to realize that you were their capture,”He started, putting his hands behind his neck as he kept going. “They'll realize that you hid that you're from WICKED and outcast you. They'll kill you,”He continued. “They'll hate you for working for . . . WICKED,”He finished, seeing someone in the reflection behind him. Daring to turn around, he saw Y/N standing there looking at him with something that he had never seen before. That normal bit of love and adoration wasn't there. Her soft eyes were replaced with a cold stare and her gentle smile was now a scowl.

Disgust.

She was disgusted by him.

She actually did hate him.

Now that he saw it he didn't think that it would have been true. He realized that he didn't realize that she truly would want nothing to do with him.

Shaking her head, she stormed to her closet and grabbed regular clothes. Changing her shirt, as she went to get her hygiene supplies so that she could stay with a friend he blocked the doorway. Begging her to listen, he kept holding back tears as she glared at him. Deciding that she had enough, she turned to leave, figuring that she could find other stuff.

Aris though, couldn't let that happen.

So, in a desperate, pathetic attempt to make her stay he was on his knees, holding her legs as he begged her to understand and forgive him for keeping this from her.

While Y/N knew that she could kick him off, there was something about him begging that did things to her it shouldn't. So she remained silent, listening to his pleads as he groveled at her feet.

Without realizing he had his head between her legs, making her gasp as his pleas sent vibrations through her body. Unable to handle it, she pulled him up and forced him on the bed behind him. Laying there, he just stared at her as he tried to think about what she could possibly be willing to do with him.

“Here's what happens. You let me do whatever I want to you, and I'll forget about this. Or if you want, we'll talk about it. Either way, you have to let me do whatever I desire,”She bargained.

“Whatever it takes,”He promised.

Not giving him a verbal response, she was on his lap, straddling him. As he tried to put his hand on her back she pushed him away.

“You do everything when I say. You touch me when I say, where I say. You stop your sounds when I say. You cum when I say. I am in charge,”She said firmly.

“Whatever you want,”He repeated.

“You sit back,”She demanded, pushing his chest back. Doing as she said, he watched as she slowly pulled her shirt over her head, letting it fall to the ground and revealing her black, lace bralet. Slowly pulling the hem of her pants down, she gave him a glimpse of her red underwear, immediately turning his face the color of them.

Putting her knees on the side of him, when he tried to touch her waist she pulled his hands back. Slowly grinding on him, she put her hands on his shoulders, kissing his neck. Biting his skin, when he moaned she pulled away and admired her work before her eyes traveled to his arms, seeing them balled into fists as he held back from touching her.

Making it worse, she got off and let the last of her undergarments fall, making his eyes go wide as she ran her hands down her stomach, to her inner thigh. Coming to her slit, she made him watch her get herself off. Sticking two fingers inside of her, she moaned as Aris grew hard. Barely having self control he closed his eyes only to feel hands on his jaw. Looking up, he saw Y/N gazing at him.

“Watch the show,”She demanded, stepping back. Taking her bra off, she sat on his still clothed dick while pushing her breasts to his face. Realizing what she was demanding, he sucked on her nipple, swirling his tongue around her bud. Grinding against him, she felt his erection as he moaned on her skin.

Suddenly pulling away and throwing her hair over her back, she took his shirt off. Trailing her hands down his chest, she came to his belt loops. Taking them between her fingers, she pulled them and his boxers off, revealing his precum already dripping down his sides. Stroking him, she played with his cock before kissing his tip. Just barely swirling her tongue around it, she licked down the side, only stopping when she was by his balls. Pulling away, she looked at the way he was panting as her teasingness killed him.

Uncaring, she just stared at him while chewing on her bottom lip in a way that had him feral.

“You’re going to let me ride your face,”She ordered, positioning herself above him before just wrapping her thighs around his head. Bouncing on his face, she felt his tongue inside of her while she grew closer. Letting out high pitched whimpers, she rubbed herself against his mouth as he opened so that he would swallow.

Wrapping her thighs around his head even tighter, she moaned as she creamed on him. With him holding her waist, he got every bit he could in his mouth. Just the way he knew she wanted.

Getting off, she sat on his stomach while raking her hands down his chest. Just as he was getting comfortable though, she crawled on top of him. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she held him still as she rode his cock. Staring at her, he resisted the temptation of touching her. Her waist, her hips, her stomach, her tits, her ass, her thighs, her. He couldn't touch her.

At the same time the though, he could feel his orgasm coming as her tits bounced and her moans grew louder.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,”He repeated as he closed his eyes while somehow holding back. Bouncing faster, she met his harsh thrusts as he started begging. “Please? Please, please, please let me cum? Just let me cum in you,”He repeated.

“Shut up, and fuck me,”She ordered through heavy breaths. Doing what she said, he was almost in tears as his body was begging for release.

Hearing his whimpers, she smashed her lips against his. Moaning in her mouth, he was barely hanging on. With his noises getting to her, she pulled away and repeated his name to the gods as the knot in her stomach broke.

No longer moving, she just watched the tears in his eyes at the discomfort. With a satisfied smile, she got off of his still very hard dick.

“Y/N-”

“That isn't my name.”

“Then what-”

“Call me a slut,”She ordered, knowing just how against the idea he would be.

“Excuse me?”

“Call me your slut.”

“But I-”

“Call me a slut while you fuck my goddamn brains out or I’ll make you,”She threatened. Hesitantly shaking his head no, he waited for whatever she was going to do to him.

Pulling him off the bed, she had him standing there as he just kept wanting to touch her.

“Knees, now,”She ordered. Doing as she told him, he waited for the next command.

Going against the idea, she just grabbed his face and pushed it into her. Harshly pulling his hair, she listened to him whine as he tried to keep up with the pace. Ignoring it, she put her hands behind his neck and pushed him into her over and over. Grinding her hips on him, she looked as he sucked on her juices, somehow plunging his tongue in and out. With a groan of pleasure, she came all over his face. Lapping up all he could, he licked her thighs and stomach as he silently prayed for her to just make him cum.

“Call me your slut,”She slowly repeated. As he shook his head no she glared at him before throwing him on the bed.

“You don't listen well, do you?”She asked. Not saying anything, he just stared while still breathing heavily.

Sliding back on his cock, she moaned as she started riding him. Arching his back, he whimpered as he was just waiting for her to say yes. To say that he could put his hands all over him while filling her up. He just wanted to do something, to show love, to be loved again. He just wanted her.

Increasing her pace, she was almost screaming as the knot in her core came back. With her eyes rolling to the back of her head, she pulled off and grinded against his thigh until she came. With not even that being enough, he was back to pleading.

“Please let me touch you? Please, please, please, please?”He begged. Ignoring it, she grabbed her handcuffs and cuffed his arms to the bedposts.

“Have fun,”She whispered in his ear, slowly stroking him a few times before swirling her tongue around his tip. Just as he thought it was over she stood up and walked grabbed her clothes l.

“Y/N? Y/N, don't. Please no, I-”

“We’ll talk later. I’ve got things to do,”She waved him off, putting her garments on.

“Y/N, please don't-”

Interrupting him, she shut the door, leaving him tied there, completely nude and hard. Throwing his head back, mumbled a string of curses.

From right outside the door, she listened, her heart still hurting as she debated just opening it and hearing what he had to say. Hear why he didn't trust her enough to say it out right. Hear why all the love she had given him hadn't been enough for him to trust her.

Shaking her head, she walked downstairs as she tried to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do next. How the hell they were supposed to move on from just everything.

She wasn't sure, but some part of her desperately hoped that they could. If they had survived so much, she just prayed that they would make it through this too, together.

#aris jones #aris x reader #aris smut #aris tmr #tmr aris #light angst #slight hurt/comfort #smut and angst #smut oneshot #smut #part 1/2 #tmr

[gayerthanevertbh]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐.

not my gif!

pairing: best friend’s mom!natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary: you know it was beautifully wrong when your best friend’s mother kissed your parched mouth. what’s even worse is that she’s a married woman and you’re just her secret affair.

warnings for this part: mommy!kink, slight praising, smoking (nothing too serious)

author’s note: so sorry for my inactivity, i had a writer’s block x but i’m back now and hoping to update as always. if i’m not active again, that’s probably because i’m busy with school and work. anyways, enjoy!

this series is 18+ minors dni! you will be blocked if you don’t have your age on your bio.

series masterlist || main masterlist || taglist for this series

Ever since Natasha introduced you to smoking cigarettes, you got yourself quite addicted to the taste. You have this understanding of people when they say cigarettes help them to stay calm and it works wonders for you. You would buy one pack each week and sometimes maybe two if you were that stressed. Natasha didn’t corrupt you because of it – thank goodness she gave you a blunt – and you loath to think that way with her because well, she didn’t ruin your innocence. You gladly took it, anyways.

It was a dreamy afternoon at the cottage where you were sitting on the bench, reading the novel that you can’t seem to let go of. Lucy was taking a nap while the two married women were upstairs sleeping. The sun shines through your skin as you turn the page of the book – getting invested with the story that was being told. You were so absorbed with your book that you didn’t hear a woman saying,

“Want to smoke with me?”

Your head turns and see Natasha standing with a gray shirt along with her sweatpants that were loose. You shake your head and reply, “I don’t smoke–”

“It’s just me,” she cuts you off, chuckling. “Scoot over, kid.”

Kid, she says, you think to yourself while scoffing inwardly. I can’t just be a kid to her when she wouldn’t keep her eyes off me.

You followed her simple order and sat near the edge of the bench. She sits close to you – but not in a creepy way – and takes a swig of her lighter and flicks the ignition of it. Then, put it close to the bud of the cigarette.

Inhaling the smoke, she says, “What are you reading?”

You pressed her knees together and bit your bottom lip, then quickly replied, “Pride and Prejudice.”

“I love that book,” she remarked while blowing out the smoke that was inside her mouth. You can smell how thick the scent was; it was nurturing for you. “I’ve watched the film too.”

“Yeah, well, it’s one of my favorite novels.”

“Cute,” she says calmly. She looks at the side and watches your nose scrunching from the smell, finding it adorable. It’s like she’s staring at a girl who came out from a dream but never was from reality. It felt different. Sort of. She sighs, taking another blunt from her cigarette and blowing it in your direction averting your eyes from the woman who was staring at you.

Natasha only did that to get your attention.

“Want to try?” she offered the stick of her cigarette; smiling. Although you were too shy enough to say yes, you shook your head. Natasha took that for granted and inched herself near you until her lap was pressed against yours. How lovely.

“Nat–”

“I won’t force it on you,” she says reassuringly. “But here, just try. Inhale it through your throat then blow it out.”

“Would it hurt?” you asked with your timid soft voice. She nods.

“Only for a while.”

You want to be daring, be bold, and this is your chance to do so. It’s not like you want to act cool or even be lame but, maybe this could somehow change your perspective into whatever you’re thinking of. You’re just exaggerating at this point. So you nodded and took the cigarette from her fingers. Natasha smiled at you and watched intently as you put the stick into your mouth and inhaled it – then coughed out.

“My, my,” the woman quickly wraps one arm around your shoulder and pats your back softly, then looks down at your lips – noticing how crisp it was. “Easy, dorogoya, do it again.”

You nodded at her while still coughing out the smoke. After a minute or so, you inhale it again but this time slowly since you took it too fast a while ago. You can taste the itchy heavy smoke inside of your throat and finally release it; blowing it out in the air. Natasha was in awe while watching you do so.

“How does it taste?” she asked, smiling coyly.

You slowly crept up a small side smile and took another blunt but this time, blowing it straight at her face – making you laugh loudly. Payback’s a bitch.

She giggles rather softly and looks at you with her bright green orbs that spoke with adoration whenever she gazes at you. You replied, “It’s alright. Thanks for that I guess.”

“You can finish the whole stack, I’ll go light up another one for myself.”

And there you were, sitting beside the woman who gave you an unforgettable experience that will be a memory in your life. While you were finishing your last cigarette, you stare at Natasha who had her head all the way to the back of the bench; blowing out the smoke mindlessly. Her beauty was mesmerizing enough to make your stomach churn into this sense of need that you’ve never felt before. And the more you accept it, the more you’re not as scared.

What else would you be scared of, anyway?

—

“You smoke?” Lucy asked curiously while sitting down on a hammock that was hung in your room.

“Yeah,” you replied nonchalantly. “Why?”

Lucy drops her gaze at you and quirks an eyebrow, then chuckles afterward. “Nothing, I just never saw you smoke.”

Yeah, it’s because your mother gave me the first experience to smoke a fucking cigarette.

You sighed and leaned more against the hard wall; laughing quietly.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?” she mocks your tone while writing down in her notebook; her gaze never leaves it.

“Do you smoke, too?”

“I smoke weed, yeah,” she responded and let out a loud groan. “We should go shopping right now. Michael wants to take me on a special date later at night and your mom isn’t here so, sleep at my place. I don’t want you to be alone.”

You hate the thought of bothering someone who lives in that house and you’d rather stay at home than do that type of thing but what’s so good about it is that Natasha is there. She would want you there because once you step into their abode, that woman will bring you to her room and make love to you like it’s she means it.

So, you just nodded while finishing the cigarette between your lips. Quickly, you stood up and grabbed the air freshener that was on your vanity table and sprayed it all over the room to remove the thick smell of the cigarette. You can hear Lucy laughing quietly across the room and playfully, you rolled your eyes.

“Please don’t tell mom about this,” you pleaded but your tone stays the same. “I don’t want her to think I’m getting high or something…”

“Well, you aren’t technically,” she says. “Cover for me later? I might sleep with him tonight.”

“You said you’ll have dinner with him,” you said while remembering what Lucy mentioned before. You can hear a sigh coming out from her and she responded,

“I’m covering you from your mom so cover me too, bitch.”

You laughed, nodding, “Fine. But be home early, don’t want your mom going bonkers at me.”

She lets out a wheeze of laughter and turns to you, smiling like a dork. “Please, both of my moms love you. Especially mom, she seems to be very talkative whenever you're around. Probably because you remind her of youth or something.”

Lie. The reason why Natasha is so close to you is that she’s fucking you behind Maria and Lucy; which makes you seem like an awful, disgusting, slut. Which, again, may be you. But, you’re Natasha’s slut. She likes to think you’re her slut.

Lucy dropped you off quickly and told you once more to cover for her. Of course, as a good friend you are, you agreed and she left with no fear whatsoever. Between your personality with Lucy, she’s more outgoing than you are. You’re more of an owl; you’re kind of an introverted person, but if someone ever gives you a chance to do something daring, then you might as well take the opportunity – although you would have hesitations before that.

As quiet as a sloth, you were back at reading the novel that you left unfinished. It is 11 at night and your sleep paralysis starts to take over your body. You noticed how quiet it was around the house – almost as if no one was there. But, apparently, Maria was away for work while Natasha was left all alone in this big house she has. Currently, she’s upstairs in her room and unfortunately, you’re a wuss. You begin to wonder if she knows you’re here, probably not, and that made your heart sink, realizing that you will only have limited time with her due to the situation that is at hand.

You were about to fall asleep when you heard the creaking sound from the door and it made your eyes wide open at the sight of the woman standing right in front of your glory.

“I didn’t know you were here,” she says while taking a seat at the edge of the bed but so close to you that you can feel her. “I’m assuming my daughter is out with her boyfriend?”

You nodded slowly and pulled the blanket near to your face. Natasha sighed.

“That’s okay,” she beams and looks at you with the knowing smile that she always uses whenever you’re with her. Then, she hovers on top of you and pulls your back until you bottom down on her lap. Natasha hums in satisfaction and pushes her lips against yours; full of want and desperation. Full of need and adoration. You can hear her whisper in seduction,

“I was just watching those naughty videos you sent me, princess. You’ve made me wet.” She grabs your wrist and places the palm of your hand on her covered cunt, emphasizing how aroused the woman was. She was, in fact, so wet that you could feel it through the clothed core.

“Tasha…”

“Detka,” she whispers hotly on the roof of your mouth and brings her hand slowly upwards to your waist. You wanted her this badly but for some whatever fucked up reason that succumbs your mind, your hands pushes on both of her shoulders softly and her eyes lingered towards you; asking what was wrong.

“Baby?”

“Tash,” you tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled with no teeth. “Can we take it slow? I just wan’ feel you tonight.”

She looks at you with uncertainty then quickly shakes her head and nods, smiling back at you.

“Of course, my little dove.”

The woman wasted no time reclining her lips back at yours, making you let out the tiniest moan. Natasha can feel herself getting more worked up whenever you would make the littlest sounds – it was infuriating. In a good way. She brings both of her hands to cup your cheek so softly and deepened the heated kiss with her tongue sliding through swiftly. As soon as your tongues met, you were completely lost in translation.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” Natasha whispers hungrily and stands up while bringing your legs around her waist. You hold on tight while the woman brings you upstairs to the master bedroom until you can feel the mattress dipped within your body. She opens your legs slowly – trying not to hurt you in the slightest – and hovers you again with her muscular arms that were between your head. Leaning down, she kisses your cheeks chastely and smiles when you hitch your breath from the slightest peck.

“Gonna be a good girl for me tonight?” she asked with a teasing tone. You nodded frantically, pressing your toes deep into the mattress to control that sensational feeling that was between your legs. The woman above you stares at you for once and brings her lips back to yours; letting her control your body.

The feel of her lips weighs on you in a certain way that makes you feel this kind of spark that was igniting inside of your beating heart. Or your throat. Her hands were finally maneuvering to the side of your torso until she slips it inside your shirt, trickling her fingers all the way up to your uncovered breasts and squeezing them slightly; making her let out a breathy moan that was inside of your mouth.

“Oh god,” you pulled away with a whisper and put your hips up against her, suddenly feeling all needy and whiny.

Her lips traveled down to your jaw until to your neck, nibbling at it softly while her hands were going back down to your body until she could feel the hem of your shorts. She looks back up with her hooded lusted eyes and asked, “Can I?”

You nodded, “You don’t need to ask.”

Then, she smirks darkly, sending a chilling feeling through your bones.

Natasha leisurely pulls down your red cottoned shorts, leaving her breathless once your laced pink underwear is glorified within her eyes. You can hear her panting – see her smiling at the sight that she could possibly eat. Not even a minute later, her lips were finally back onto your parched mouth as she ruts her core against yours, making you pull away with a strangled moan that you let out.

“Make those pretty sounds for me, baby girl,” she begged utterly. You nodded, continuing to grind back with her as you felt the intensity of her nipping on your neck. Not long enough, your shirt is discarded while the woman tries to take off her own underwear with struggling hands. She was so aroused that there were some difficulties taking off her own panties and quickly you helped her, kissing her pelvis while pulling it down with ease; Natasha moans in a guttural way.

“Fuck,” she chuckles rather deeply. “I’m so horny right now.”

The woman slightly pushes you back down on the bed and continues to ravish her shaky hands all the way down to your hips, claiming it possessively. At this point, your mind has shut down in the way that Natasha kisses your stomach while whispering, “You are such a good little girl, all for me to use.”

What gets you so worked up is how this woman knows how to talk – especially when it comes to sex. Heated sex. Her words were so filth and praising that you could never ever get enough of them. She’s like a whole package deal. You gasped lightly when you felt her tongue lathering all over your folds, her nose pressed flatly against your clit, and whispering,

“You taste so good, little one. Got mommy all wet when I’m eating this tiny pussy,” she presses open-mouth kisses all over your open folds, letting out a humming vibrating sound while her tongue worked all the way down to your hole that seemed so small. You pushed your hips forward – needing more friction – until you can feel the woman’s hand inside of your thigh, slapping it gently that electrifies your entire body system.

“Be a good girl, sweetheart,” she demands with her innocent dark tone. “You have no idea what I can do to you. How much I will devour you right at this moment. All you have to do is lay back and beg, detka. Beg for mommy’s fingers.”

—

You caught Natasha staring.

Again.

For the fifth time today.

And god may never forgive you, but you loved it. It makes you feel excited and the attention given is unstoppable.

You were currently chopping off some carrots that Natasha asked you to do since she’s making soup for everyone in the house. Of course, you wanted to help the woman out. So, you followed her simple order and grabbed the nearest kitchen knife you could get.

The woman, who was leaning against the doorway, has her dark forest eyes gazing at your body like some perverted creep. As your bare legs were exposed, Natasha couldn’t help but think of a scenario where you had your legs wide open while she kisses your collarbone like some hungry animal; eating its prey. Her lips would trail up to your ear and whisper the filthiest words that she could never stop saying. You were at her mercy, her hands were all over your back while thrusting her strap inside of your tight hole that it was impossible to fit.

She finally realized what she was thinking of and stopped it immediately before her possessive side could come out any time soon.

“I heard you’re talking to a boy,” Natasha said with decency, even though jealousy was flaming through her veins.

“Oh,” you stopped cutting the last piece of carrot and huffed. You were talking to this boy last night and he was a great help with distracting you from Natasha because every day, it seems like you couldn’t stop thinking about her. His name is Peter.

“Oh?”

You chuckled lightly then continued slicing the carrot with your knife. “Yeah um, I guess you could say that.”

She hummed and took a step – leaning against the counter with her lower stomach. Her eyes never fail to leave you. Natasha says, “So it’s a date?”

So many questions. You thought to yourself randomly.

“I guess so.”

“You have to stop saying that,” she replies in such a serious tone – your body flinching from it. “Now tell me, are you?”

“I’m sorry, but that’s totally none of your business,” you say and take a step back, realizing what you have just said. Her eyes hardened by your monotone and dangerously walked towards you, her hands finding their way to your wrist and pinning it back down behind you over the counter. She leans close to your face and presses her lips against yours harshly – making your eyes roll back at her suppleness.

She grumbles into the heated kiss and brings her hand to your cheek to hold it steadily. You pinch your eyes together when her spit seeps inside of your mouth; moaning at its taste. Natasha pulls away and looks at you with her slightly hooded eyes, her forehead pressing against your sweaty ones.

You bit your bottom lip hard, feeling the fear of being caught at this scene where your best friend’s mother was cupping your face. It felt wrong, terribly, yet it felt right somehow. It’s like the universe planned this whole scene to happen. You hate to admit that you liked the way she kissed you, the way she shoved her tongue down in your throat like some barbaric human being.

“I–”

“Don’t go out with him,” she whispers breathlessly. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since I met you.”

“Natasha–”

“Let me finish,” she sterns, pinning you harder against the cold marbled counter. “You think this is wrong, right? Well, I don’t. I think it was destined for you to meet me as I was destined to meet you. You make me so fucking crazy, Y/N. It’s not just about your looks, you’re fucking beautiful and breathtaking but…”

“But what?” you couldn’t help but ask with a timid, breathy tone.

“I think you’re mesmerizing and whenever you are near me I can’t help but think that I want you. I want you, so fucking bad. I need you.”

She wasted no time but to bring her lips back at yours, moaning uncontrollably when you accidentally bumped your teeth together as you tried closing your legs. But, Natasha was in the way and she could possibly feel your heat radiating through you without even thinking, she cupped your clothed core and chuckled at how you were responding to her.

She kept kissing you, loving you on that counter until you came several times with her humping you like a dog in heat. She never once tried thrusting her fingers inside of you as it was too risky to do that in an open space.

That day, your relationship with the married woman began and there was absolutely no way out of it.

taglist: @sayah13 @santasbitch @bepisbeansprouts @sabstance-blog @cl-e @s1ut4nat @lostremind @comfy-mee @how-to-disappearr @when-wolves-howl @sapphosclosefriend @korekiyoss​ @aru-son​ (can’t seem to tag the others, so so sorry x)

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha angst #older!nat #black widow #black widow x reader #wlw blog #towseries #smut and angst #natasha romanoff

[shadowhandss60]

More Manorian smut to fill the void, I need some prompt ideas 💃🏽

“Deflecting; at least that hasn't changed." He mused.

"What do you want?" She punctuated each word with a step until they were a hands breath apart, she saw his broad shoulders tense, but he did not balk at the challenge.

"Your honesty."

She scoffed, furious with him, with herself for the treacherous way her body yearned for his closeness.

"Bold words from a silver-tongued king."

That wicked smile crept up his face, and it was a warning Manon refused to heed. “You‘ve seemed to enjoy my tongue plenty, if I recall.”

#manon blackbeak #throne of glass #dorian havilliard #manorian #smut and fluff #smut and angst #angst and fluff #throne of glass fanfiction #manorian fanfiction #dorian havilliard fanfiction #manon blackbeak fanfiction #hofas #house of flame and shadow #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn

[xuzuitengenx]

Random Character x Top Male OC (or Reader) Oneshot

Title—Last Time

Genre—Angst/Lemon

Warning(s): EXPLICIT WORDS, NO PREP, Marking, Vanilla to Rough, Sad Sex on the couch, Implied of Multiple Rounds and implied creampie?

THIS ONESHOT WAS MADE AT 3-4AM

There was two lovers in their shared living room, now these lovers weren't having a normal couple activities such as watching a rom-com or a horror movie where they held each other when they were scared.

Sadly, what was taking place in the living room was a break up of a relationship.

"Are...are you being serious?" [random name] mumbles lowly, his bottom lip trembling lightly as his eyes became glossy with tears that quickly formed. He tried to make contact with the [name]'s eyes, but he didn't want to meet the now broken gaze. "I'm sorry." The taller one spoke, his deep voice holding guilt. Scoffing at the apology, he try to blink away the tears, only for them to fall and slip on his redden cheeks.

"No, you're not sorry.." Swallowing his sob down as he spoke, wiping away his tears with his hands that started to shake. "[random name]..." The taller man started, but was cut off instantly. "Don't. I don't want to hear it..Not now.." Hearing the heartbreak in the said man's voice, he couldn't help but to look at the damage he had done. Meeting his tear-filled eyes that held anger and sadness.

"[random name], you need to stop.." He got a full sentence out as he watched [random name]'s expression changed. "I'm not good for..-"

"-I'm not asking if you're good for me or not! I-I just want you! YOU, [name]!" He yells, his voice breaking which caused the taller man's heart to hurt. Knowing the damage he caused was further than he thought, there was only one choice to make.. That was to leave now. Intaking [random name]'s features like it was the last time that he would see him.

"Don't look at me like that..please.." [random name] whispers.

"How else am I supposed to?" [name] whispers back with a sadden look. [random name]'s tears never stopped, tears falling after the other as his lip quivers softly. "..Like you are going to see me tomorrow.." He manages to get out as a lump in his throat began to form. [name]'s discouraged look told [random name] otherwise, making him let out a broken, short laugh. "So this is it..? W-we just done?!" [random name] could believe this.

This was the right thing to do. It was best for [random name]. Silence overcame to two as only sounds of sniffles came from [random name]. [name] was going to leave, unable to comfort the crying man as once he stays, he is not going. Taking only a couple steps, he was stopped by [random name]'s trembling voice mumbling his name. [name] looks back at him, seeing [random name] slowly taking off his shirt, revealing his slim body which made [name] confused.

[random name] threw his shirt away somewhere in the living room as he looks at [name], his eyes glossy. "One more time.." "What?" [name] asked, retracting his steps back. "One..more..time..Make love to me.." [random name] took a couple steps forward to [name]. "Please.."

"[random name], This is..-"

"[name]. If this is the last time.. The last time we'll touch each other, the last time we'll hold each other, the last time we'll kiss each other...I want remember the last time. I want you to leave any marks on me for my body to remember.. I want to remember the last time how my boyfriend loved me.."

[name]'s heart was being tugged by [random name]'s words, looking away from the shorter male before he completely gives in to [random name]. His mind and his heart were conflicted with each other. Mind is saying, "Go before he gets hurt again" and Heart is saying, "Stay, stay with him and give in. Tell him that you still love him and—"

"Look at me, [name].." His voice was close which made [name] look at [random name] who now stood right in front of him. His red, puffy eyes now clear and his semi-dryed tears were left on his cheeks.

"[random name]." [name] muttered his name, eye contact was made as silence took over again, their bodies doing the talking as [random name]'s hands traveled to hold [name]'s face gently. Thumbs caressing his cheeks as [name]'s hands dragged downwards to hold the bare waist of [random name] who shivered at the sudden cold touch of [name]'s hands.

"Kiss me.." [random name] whispers, leaning in closer to [name].

[name] knew he can't do this. He couldn't bare to. Afterwards, would he stay or go? Will he hurt [random name] more or—

"Stop thinking...I don't care anymore. I just want you.." [random name] says as his heart ached, feeling the tears coming through, but he blinked it away. [name] saw the tears building up before [random name] blinked.

"[random name]–"

"[name]! Please! Give me this! I want this! I want to remember this, I want to feel you, I want you! Please..." [random name] pleaded, feeling the same lump in his throat again, the feeling of crying slowly came through before feeling the lips of [name]'s on his.

Gasping quietly, [random name] instantly melted into the kiss, his hands that were still holding [name]'s face moved to wrap his arm around [name]'s neck as [name] held [random name]'s waist closer to his.

It wasn't long till things were getting hotter, the kiss slowly turned into a makeout—their tongues entwined with each other as [random name]'s soft muffled whines were heard by [name].

Luckily, the couch wasn't far from the couple so [name] successfully managed to lead [random name] to the couch as he laid down on it, [name] on top and between [random name]'s which wrapped around [name]'s waist.

The two broke the makeout, leaving behind a slight string of salva between the two. As [random name] removed his arms around [name]'s neck, [name] took off his shirt, revealing his body which [random name] had seen many times before but this time, he decides to intake his every muscle that was visible, every scar, (OPTIONAL: TATTOOS), where [name]'s v-line shows up to his collarbone, absolutely anything.

[name] notices this action so he lets him, throwing his shirt somewhere. [random name]'s hands started to touch [name]'s torso, feeling his abdomen, his chest, his arms, and everywhere he can reach. His finger dragging across [name]'s skin as he would remember how he would kiss [name]'s skin such as his shoulder or his neck every time he woke up next to [name].

Or when he wanted [name]'s attention, he would plant kisses on [name] until he gave in, returning the kisses back as he kisses all over [random name]'s face, making him giggle and blush.

"[random name]..?" his name was called out, causing him to break out of his train of thought and to look up at [name] who had a look of concern written on his face.

"Are you sure you want to continue this?" [name] asks as he wiped a fresh tear of off [random name]'s face as he didn't noticed that he was crying.

"I-I'm fine! Really! I just..-!" [random name]'s voice lowered until he stopped, tears threatening to fall out of his eyes once more.

[name] looks at him with sadness, his hand that was still on [random name]'s face started to gently caresses his wet cheek.

[name] went to try to leave from between [random name]'s legs, but he didn't let [name] leave.

"[name].. What if I don't want anyone else.. only you.." [random name] asked, tears falling out of the corners of his eyes as he looks at [name].

He was quiet as he watches the man under him who was waiting for an answer, he wasn't sure on getting. "One day, You're going to find the right person for you and..you are going to forget about me–"

"–No. The reason I'm doing this so I won't forget about you! No one is never going to hold me l-like you do and no one is g-going to...make those s-stupid jokes that you do...N-no one!" [random name] struggled to get out as a silent sob left his lips.

[name] could feel the tears building up in his eyes now. [random name] was right as no one can ever do the things that [random name] does that he loves.

A hiccup and then a sniffle came out of [random name] as his hands went to [name]'s face again, guiding his face down to kiss him as passionately as he could. [name] kissed back as [random name]'s whimpers were muffled against the kiss.

[random name] started to grind against [name] which caused him to groan into the kiss, his hips responding back to [random name]'s.

After a moment, the two broke their kiss as they needed air while now, heavy pants and low groans coming from the two of them as their hips continued grinding against each other, their erections growing, tightening against their pants.

[name]'s hands went from [random name]'s waist and feels all over his body, his chest, his abdomen, his clothed thighs that were still around [name]'s waist. All while leaving kisses and light hickies around [random name]'s collarbone and neck.

"P-please..I want you, [name].." [random name] whines as he needed more, needed [name]. So [random name] finally lets go of [name]'s waist, letting [name] take off both his and [random name]'s pants off, leaving them both with their boxers that revealed the outline of their erection.

Before [name] went between [random name]'s legs once again, [random name] took off his boxers as he shivers once the cold air hits his erection. [name] followed his action, taking off his own as he drops it on the ground along with the other discarded clothes.

[name] looks at the naked man under him, seeing every flaw that [random name] had that he loved, his huggable waist that was best for cuddling, his muscles, all and everything thing [name] loved about [random name]'s body.

[random name]'s legs wrapped [name]'s waist as his hands laid on [name]'s shoulder which made [name] look up at the man.

"Don't..prep me." [random name] says in a hushed tone, his eyes fixated on the other's. "[random name]..."

"It's the least you can do for me...No prep.."

[name] didn't want [random name] to be in pain so, he tried to reconcile

"You're going to be in pain and–"

"–I don't care..I want to remember everything.."

[name] notices that [random name] isn't going to back down as [random name] wasn't known to surrender easily.

"..Are you sure?" [name] asked, wanting to hear an audible response of approval. [random name] softly smiles at taller man for the first time that night as he nods, "Yes, I'm sure." He reassures.

[name] sighs as he gave a look to [random name] for one more approval. [random name] knew this look as [name] always gave him that look before proceeding further. Giving a small "yes", [name] continued.

[random name] let out a soft gasp when he felt [name]'s tip near his entrance, trying to relax for his muscles to relax.

[name]'s hands went to hold [random name]'s waist, caressing his skin. [name] started to slowly insert himself inside [random name] who hissed at the pain.

Biting his bottom lip to muffle his pained groans as [name] stopped due to [random name]. "N-no, please..keep going..please.." He mumbles to [name], the pain not going away.

[name] looks at [random name] with a concerned face as [random name]'s quiet pleads continues for [name] to keep going.

Giving into [random name] as he did many, many, many times before, [name] continued to fully insert his cock slowly. [random name] whimpers in pain, but unlike this pain that will go away soon—the pain in his heart for [name] will most likely wouldn't.

This thought hitting him hard, his arms reaching to hold onto him desperately, [random name]'s arms around [name]'s shoulders, holding him close as tears were developing at the insertion and the heartbreak.

"There..I'm in." [name]'s voice was soft as he whispered in [random name]'s ear, pulling him out of his thoughts.

[random name] let out a shaky breath, mumbling something which [name] didn't catch.

"What was that?"

"M-move, please.." He whispered softly, moving to kiss [name] better.

Slowly thrusting into [random name], both of their moans were muffled into the kiss. [random name]'s pain was lifting as he became focused on the kiss which was slow and gentle.

[name]'s thrusts kept the continuous pace as [random name]'s legs tightens around his waist, his hips slowly meeting [name]'s thrusts.

Moans continued to be muffled as [random name]'s pain was slowly being being replaced with pleasure—leaving only the sting in his heart.

The kiss soon broke, heavy panting along with moans were heard freely.

"Fast—Ngh..~ F-faster, please~" [random name] begs, his moans became frequently, but still kept his same low volume.

[random name]'s removed his arms around [name] and held onto the couch throw pillow underneath him, gripping and clawing at the pillow.

"A-ah..~ Ngh..~!" [random name] moans out airily, M/N's thrusting became a bit more faster. He still had his grip on the pillow as his eyes were closed.

What made [random name] open his eyes and his heart skipped was when he felt [name]'s hand on top of his, making [random name]'s hand stop holding into the pillow and entwined hands with each other.

[name] looks down at [random name] as he looks up at [name] while a light glint of sadness were seen in [name]'s eyes, tears and love filled [random name]'s eyes.

"D-don't stop, okay–Ah.. Please..~!"

[name] stayed longer than he attended to, laying in his and [random name] once shared bed as [random name] cuddled close into [name]'s chest.

After a good couple of hours of sex on the couch, [name] took [random name] to get cleaned up before he fell asleep as he babbled of how much he loved [name]. Tears were shedding from the both of them as soft kisses of reassurance.

[name] knew he can't stay.. He wants to and he knew damn well that [random name] wanted him to also, but at last, some relationships can't always work out how it was intended to.

In the morning when [random name] woke up, he was greeted with a coldness from the other side of the bed. His heart stopped as he quickly sat up in the bed.

His breathing became shaky as he went to look for his phone to call [name].

Looking on the nightstand next to him, he notices a folded piece of paper which wasn't there before.

His hand instantly reached over to the paper, opening it and was met with [name]'s (neat/sloppy) hand writing.

I'm sorry but I can't stay. You know that and I know that..

Find someone better than me and when we meet again, you can choose if we are friends or strangers with memories

Sincerely, [name]

♡

#random #random character #male oc #male reader imagine #male reader #mature #x male reader #dom male reader #seme male reader #top male reader #angst #smut and angst #anime #manga #original character #sub character #sub x dom